Gangland Odyssey
by Silverlight
Summary: Rookie cop Ichigo learns that some things are not what they seem, especially when he gets partnered up with Rukia. Meanwhile, Urahara offers Renji a 'get out of jail' card when he asks him to infiltrate the mob known as the Gotei 13 [AU, various pairings]
1. GenX Cops I

**Summary: **Rookie cop Ichigo learns that some things are most definitely not what they seem, especially when he gets partnered up with Rukia. Meanwhile, Urahara offers Renji a "get out of jail" card when he asks him to infiltrate the mob known as the Gotei 13. At the same time, the Ishida heir goes missing, and it's up to Special Operatives Chad, Orihime and Tatsuki to find him and bring him back.

Written for NaNoWriMo redux, December 2005/January 2006, which took place on lj. In total, it's about 86, 000 words, approximately. I've edited it slightly for typos, but not really much else. The writing isn't my best, but it's my first try at something that's not either humour/parody or cotton candy-esque romance. There are about thirty chapters, give or take, and I'll be posting as I edit, which probably won't be very quick.

* * *

Urahara poured his third mug of coffee, swivelled his neck in a (futile) attempt to get rid of the lingering ache from sleeping in an odd position and sat at his desk, sipping quietly. Propping his feet up on his desk, he leaned backwards and closed his eyes, tilting his hat so that it settled over his eyes and settled for a quiet morning of caffeine and naps.

He was halfway through his coffee and just beginning to fall into a comfortable doze when the door to his office flew open. It hit the opposite wall with a resounding crash, made him jump and spill a bit of his precious coffee onto his rumpled uniform and he looked up to see a very irate rookie cop standing in front of him, his uniform pristine and scowl semi-permanent. "Good morning Ichigo, care for a cuppa?"

"Why the hell did you reassign Chad?" demanded Ichigo. "And you didn't even tell us."

Urahara put his mug down, swung his feet to the ground and rolled his chair so that he was closer to his desk. He grinned at his favourite rookie and said, "Sit down. Croissant? Tessai just picked them up, they're pretty good."

"Chief," snarled Ichigo.

"Now, now, no formalities. I've known you since you were this--" Urahara made a vague gesture with his hand, "--tall. Donut? Ah well, here you go, black with three sugars. You take your coffee like your father, you know. Sit down, Ichigo."

Ichigo glared, but sat down anyway, his eyes doing their damned best to burn a hole into his superior. Urahara grinned, pushed the box of pastries towards Ichigo and propped his feet back up on the desk, leaning back again. The chair squeaked and he frowned. "My, I certainly need to look into our budget for office appliances. We can't have our officers complaining about back problems now, can we?"

"Chief--"

"Call me Uncle Kisuke," Urahara said, waving a hand. "Or if that bugs you since I'm your superior, at least use my name in conjunction with the title. I find that it promotes greater efficiency. Less formality and all tha--URK"

Ichigo had grabbed Urahara's collar and yanked him across the desk, pulling him to his feet. "Where's Chad?"

"Uh, reassignedtoSpecialOpsbutyoudidn'thearitfrommeit'sclassified," choked out Urahara. He regained his colour almost immediately when Ichigo released him. He pulled at his uniform, drank the rest of his coffee and remarked, "You know, your father wouldn't have had to resort to violence in order to get some answers."

"No," answered Ichigo, somewhat sourly. "He would have probably just come into your office when you weren't here and snuck through your files."

"Not that easy," replied Urahara, somewhat absently, detaching a set of keys from his belt and jiggling them into a drawer in his desk. "Not even he can pick fifteen locks in less than a half hour." It took him a few minutes, and he pulled his drawer, rifled through the folders and took one out. "Ah yes, you have a new parter. A rookie just like you, I believe, but you should have no problem with her. In fact--ahh, lovely to see you, Officer Kuchiki."

Ichigo craned his neck to look behind him. A small woman stood in the doorway, her uniform perfectly pressed, collars starched and even her hat was at the precise regulation angle. She was very short, her hair very dark and a thick lock of hair fell across her face. Her look was unflinching as she saluted the Chief and said, "Officer Kuchiki reporting to duty, Sir."

"Yes, yes, good timing. Your new partner is sitting in front of you. Officer Ichigo Kurosaki, you will take Officer Rukia Kuchiki and show her the ropes." Urahara's eyes gleamed. "Of course, if you're going to be using them in different ways that aren't quite professional, I won't complain just as long as--"

Ichigo threw the remainder of his coffee on his adopted uncle. Rukia's expression did not change. "Permission to speak, Chief Urahara," she said.

"Permission granted," Urahara sputtered in between wiping himself off with spare napkins.

"I do not believe in engaging in..." her lips curled into a frown, "licentious actions with my co-workers. Nor do I appreciate anyone insinuating that I would."

Urahara gave her a sheepish grin and waved at the seat beside Ichigo. Rukia hesitated, then sat down. Urahara fixed Ichigo and himself another coffee before pressing a button on the coffemaker. Rukia's nose twitched. Noticing it, Urahara pushed the box of pastries her way, and she was halfway through her first croissant when he placed a mug of coffee (two creams, two sugars) in front of her. She sipped it with a nod of thanks. Ichigo scowled.

"Sir," he said rigidly, "I do not see why I had to be reassigned with a rookie when I'm one myself."

"You assigned me under a rookie?" Rukia said as soon as Ichigo finished his sentence.

"Ichigo, you came from the Academy with exemplary marks, but you have yet to partner with someone new. You show promise of being an exceptional officer and I am confident in your abilities. Now, Rukia," and Urahara's eyes gleamed, "Ichigo here can understand your situation." He paused and then offered, "His father was my partner, Isshin."

Rukia's eyes widened and Ichigo sighed and bowed his head. "Do you have to tell everyone that?"

"It saves time on introductions," Urahara replied, throwing folders in front of them. "Here. Read this. Get to know one another. You guys can start working tomorrow. But before you leave, would you like to join me for dinner tonight, Officer Kuchiki? I'll make sure that it won--"

Urahara watched Ichigo and Rukia's retreating backs with a mournful sigh before pulling more tissue from the box to wipe away the remnants of Rukia's drink from his face. And then grinned. "It's going to be an interesting partnership," he murmured and went to wash the fresh coffee stains from his uniform.

Ichigo scanned the folder on his new partner and raised an eyebrow at some of her bio. Top of her class, highly recommended by her former section chief, perfect records, everything. She had graduated a year under him and despite her diminuative size, was apparently a fierce and innovative fighter, and apparently had a third level black belt. He also did not fail to note her last name and the possible connection to the fairly well-known member of Sereitei Corporation's Board of Directors, Byakuya Kuchiki.

"So where are we going now?" Rukia asked him after he showed her to the closest coffeemaker, her desk, the gym and everything else, in that order.

He dumped the profile of his latest partner in his desk, gave her a once over and raised an eyebrow. "A third-level?"

She grinned. "What, don't believe it?"

He drank the last of his lukewarm coffee. "Meet you at the gym in ten minutes."

Eight minutes later, he found her in loose clothing, stretching and warming up. He silently sat across from her and mimicked her motions, limbering up for what could possibly be the first decent fight with someone other than his father and Chad in a long time. The last time he fought someone smaller than him was Tatsuki, and he usually managed to kick her ass nine times out of ten (much to Tatsuki's chagrin).

"Ready?" asked Rukia.

Rolling to his feet, Ichigo put his arms up.

They spent at least ten minutes sizing one another up, lashing out with half-hearted swats, and another five reassessing their primary evaluation of each other. Rukia was much more agile than Ichigo ever thought she would be, in motion more often than not and jumping heights that he didn't think she could jump. Ichigo was cleverer than Rukia thought he would be, his eyes following her every movement and reading into them with a speed that only two other people had ever managed to do sparring with her.

Ichigo took a deep breath, lying on his back, trying not to breathe too deeply as Rukia's elbow was centimetres from his throat.

"I could've taken you on with one arm tied behind my back," she announced, grinning at his expression.

"I was going easy on you anyway," Ichigo returned, pushing her arm away and sitting up so he could rub his aching head from where it came in contact with the floor.

"You're not half-bad for a rookie," Rukia continued, ignoring his comment. Her grin widened when she saw the gleam in his eyes and said, "You fight too clean though. You would've been dead in less than two minutes if you fought like that on the streets."

"I doubt you've seen much street-fighting yourself, Rookie," he replied before flopping back down onto the mat. The ceiling lights were really too bright for a gym, he thought.

Rukia shrugged. "You're just a sore loser. And if we were on the street, I would've taken out my Walther. You're paying for lunch."

He closed his eyes. "Get your own fucking lunch."

She toed his side lightly. "You're really a sore loser." Her voice took on a sing-song quality and Ichigo groaned. "Oh, poor widdle Ichigo, ego got trampled by a widdle gwirl. What will your peers say?"

"Okay, okay, geez," muttered Ichigo, clambering to his feet. "But just this once."

Rukia's smile turned mocking. "Sure Rookie," she said sweetly, elbowing his ribs. "Whatever you say."

* * *

Renji tilted his chair back, put his feet up on the desk and linked his hands behind his red hair. He scowled at the person in front of him, ignored the paper cup of coffee before him and said, "Whaddya want?"

"That jumpsuit really doesn't go with your hair," Urahara told him cheerfully. "Want something to eat? I can get someone to go out and get us a couple of pastries."

"I hope your die of a heart attack."

Urahara patted his stomach. "But what a way to go."

Renji turned his head away. He hated the Section Chief, a man full of grins and smiles and offers that Renji was hard put to refuse. The last time Urahara was here, he offered him early parole in exchange for the names of the people involved in the bust that Renji willingly took the rap in. He had been tempted; God knows how tempted he had been. Two fucking years in the slammer, no visits from his compadres, and he was living in orange jumpsuits, fading tattoos and food that tasted like shit. The only thing that kept him going was the memory of those months prior to his imprisonment, the first girl he had ever really ever fallen for, and the fact that as long as he was alive, in here, she was probably out there, living her goddamned life. Not that she was grateful for it, Renji thought with a scowl, and then took the thought back. Rukia was a bitch, but she wasn't an ungrateful one. She just acted like she was.

"Renji Abarai, you're going to be stuck in here for a long time, you realize."

"Fuck you."

"Yes, we've established that my tastes don't run towards tattoos, as attractive as some people might find them," Urahara replied, his smile seraphic. "How would you like early parole?"

"Why don't you go--"

Urahara held up a hand. "Tut, tut. Different terms this time, Abarai." His coal-dark eyes gleamed, and Renji suppressed a shiver. Kisuke Urahara and his partner were the ones that had caught him five years ago. "How would you like to return to the Gotei 13?"

"Go to hell."

"And join you there? No thanks," replied the section chief, sipping his coffee. "But what if I say that you can really return to your former gang? No holds barred, no bugs, nothing."

Renji brought his chair back down to the ground with a thump. "What's in it for you?"

"I want you to act as my agent among them," Urahara replied calmly. "I can wipe your record clean, give you a new start at life and a decent income for two years after this is all over."

"After what is over? This fucking farce? Aren't you scared I'll go turncoat on you?"

Urahara shrugged. "It's a risk I'll have to take. You're not a bad guy, Abarai. You just act like it." He paused to finish the rest of his coffee and added, "Oh, I haven't told you about my latest recruit. New officer. Name's Kuchiki. Pretty girl. Kinda short, maybe four feet seven inches. Dark hair, large eyes. That kind of thing."

Renji closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Opened them to see Urahara regarding him. Renji scowled. "Why the fuck do I care about some rookie?"

"I know you're covering for her," Urahara informed him calmly, leaning over to snatch Renji's coffee and sip it. "I also know who her brother is, what he's trying to do, and what the Gotei 13's motives are. What I don't have is evidence, and I need that. You do this for me, Rukia walks free, and you can follow her. You don't..." Urahara shrugged.

"You don't have any proof."

Urahara gave a faint smile. "Oh? Do give me some credit for having eyes. I do know what it's like to fall in love." The strangling noises that Renji was emanating only made Urahara raise a knowing brow. "So...do we have a deal?"

Renji was silent for a long moment. His eyes swept across the bare room, the smiling man sitting across from him. He clenched his hands into the pant of his orange jumpsuit, thought of his lonely prison cell and the asshole that he called a roommate for the last year and a half. "I hate you," he murmured, finally.

Urahara's smile widened. "How unfortunate."

_end part one_


	2. Young & Dangerous I

**Summary: **Rookie cop Ichigo learns that some things are most definitely not what they seem, especially when he gets partnered up with Rukia. Meanwhile, Urahara offers Renji a "get out of jail" card when he asks him to infiltrate the mob known as the Gotei 13. At the same time, the Ishida heir goes missing, and it's up to Special Operatives Chad, Orihime and Tatsuki to find him and bring him back.

Written for NaNoWriMo redux, December 2005/January 2006, which took place on lj. In total, it's about 86, 000 words, approximately. I've edited it slightly for typos, but not really much else. The writing isn't my best, but it's my first (serious) try at something that's not either humour/parody or cotton candy-esque romance. There are about thirty chapters, give or take, and I'll be posting as I edit, which probably won't be very quick.

* * *

Chad rolled his neck to get most of the kinks out, and waited for his new supervisor to wave at him. When she did, he stood up, grunted and put the safety on the sniper rifle, its barrel resting on his shoulder. Two metres tall, he suppose he stood out against the bright sky on top of the building, but he didn't really mind. He had spent most of his life standing out, and almost as long trying to figure out how to work around it. He ducked into the building, went down the stairs and jogged to his waiting supervisor.

"Impressive," Yoruichi told him, eyeing the targets that he had hit. "Very impressive, Yasutora." She looked at her latest recruit and gave him a half-smile. "Think you could do that again on _that_ building?"

Chad looked, grunted and nodded. They repeated this exercise for the rest of the afternoon, and every so often, the head of Special Operations would nod. "Damn Kisuke, I guess I owe him for this one," she murmured under her breath, watching Chad's giant figure settle almost invisibly against a rooftop several hundred feet away.

"Hi Chief!" someone chirped from behind Yoruichi. "Did you send for me?"

"You were supposed to be here two minutes ago," Yoruichi replied, slanting her eyes at her bomb specialist. Orihime gave her an apologetic smile.

"Sorry! My lunch ran away from me, and I fell down the stairs chasing it." Orihime brushed her shirt off with a nervous gesture, looked up and shaded her eyes from the bright sun. "Is that my new partner?"

"Yes." Yoruichi waved at Chad, and he appeared at their side a few moments later, his sniper once again slung comfortably on his shoulder. "Sado, Orihime, you two will team up for the next little while."

"Hi!" Orihime stuck a hand out to him. "Nice to meet you. I'm Orihime Inoue, bomb specialist." She smiled at him, and then tiptoed so she could peer at him more closely. "How do you see with all that hair?" she asked curiously.

He brushed it back with a self-conscious gesture, shrugged and took her hand. "Sado Yasutora."

"You're really tall," said Orihime, and then covered her mouth with a faint giggle. "Whoops. Sorry, I tend to say things I shouldn't. Or at least, that's what Tatsuki always tells me, and she's my best friend. Do you know her? She went to police academy too."

He paused. "Tatsuki Arisawa?"

Orihime nodded and spread her arms out, spinning in circles. "You do know her! My best friend and new friend know one another, so I won't have to introduce them later." She paused and put a finger on her cheek. "You don't mind being friends with me, do you?"

He shook his head. Yoruichi observed all of this with a faint smile. "You two have the rest of the day off. Report to me at zero seven hundred hours tomorrow for your next assignment."

They both snapped to attention almost immediately and saluted her in a single, crisp motion. "Yes Sir."

* * *

"So this little cafe makes the greatest dumplings," said Orihime, tugging on Chad's arm. "I know you'll love it. Everyone loves Karakura Cafe. I sometimes meet Tatsuki here."

Chad rubbed the back of his neck and said, somewhat apologetically, "I've been there before."

Orihime paused, her mouth making a little moue. Then, "That's good, then I don't have to explain the menu to you! Unless," and her face fell a little, "unless you don't like the food there?"

Chad shook his head. "No. I like it there. Used to eat there with my old partner."

"Really? How strange that I've never seen you there! My food never runs away from me there. I like eating there. Everytime I bring my own food to work, it runs away from me, but never at the cafe. I wonder why."

Chad opened his mouth to reply, and then shut it when he realized that there was nothing he could sayg. His new partner was really weird, he thought. But nice. He could live with that.

Orihime kept up her chatter, three of her quick skip-steps equalling one of Chad's long, languid strides. She pushed open the door, laughing as the bell tinkled above them and then paused. Chad stopped behind her, peered through a curtain of hair and cracked a smile. "Hey."

Ichigo raised the hand, his chopsticks waved for a moment and then he gestured to the seats next to him and his eating partner. Sitting across from him was a young female with dark hair, her wide eyes curious as she examined the newcomers as they slid into the proferred seats.

"Didn't expect to see you," Ichigo said to his best friend. Chad shrugged and looked pointedly at Rukia and Ichigo hastily swallowed a mouthful of rice. "Chad, that's my new partner Rukia."

He nodded at Rukia and introduced Orihime. Orihime had been staring at Ichigo since they had entered the shop, a fact that had not escaped Chad's notice. "She went to high school with us," he informed Ichigo.

Orihime's eyes widened and Ichigo cocked his head as he wracked his memory. "You remember me, Sado?" she asked. Chad shrugged.

"Not hard."

Rukia sucked on the tip of her chopstick as she watched the proceedings, her eyes flitting back and forth between Chad, Ichigo and Orihime with such alacrity that her eyes almost seem to blur. Ichigo snapped his chopsticks at her at one point, and she scowled and kicked his shins.

"So you're Ichigo's new partner," Orihime said to Rukia. "How long have you guys been together for?"

Rukia glanced at her watch. "Oh, about six hours or so." She grinned. "I kicked his butt in less than an hour though."

Chad looked at Rukia with something akin to respect in his eyes and Ichigo's scowl deepened. "Feh. I was going easy on you."

"You keep saying that, but I'm not the one paying for this," Rukia retorted, waving a hand at the server to ask for more menus and another milk tea.

Orihime tapped the side of her cheek, tilted her head to regard Rukia thoughtfully. "You should meet Tatsuki," she said finally. "I think you guys would get along."

"Oh?" Rukia asked, raising an eyebrow. Orihime nodded.

"She's my best friend. She does martial arts too! She can take on Ichigo too, but," and her gaze slid over to Ichigo, who was adding red vinegar to his sauce dish, "I think he beats her most of the time. She's really strong! And nice! Just like you."

* * *

"I'm sorry to call you on such short notice."

Yoruichi looked at the man sitting across from her. Fair hair and dark eyes, glasses, perfectly tailored suits. She hadn't wanted this meeting, but even she knew that when Ryuuken Ishida wanted something, even if it was something as paltry as a meeting, he usually got it. "What do you need?"

"This is my son." He slid a photo across the desk towards her. "He has been kidnapped."

She examined it for a long moment. He looked a lot like his father. "Why are you telling this to me? This is usually for the regular police, not Special Ops."

He pushed his glasses up on his nose. "The Gotei 13 took him. I want him back."

Yoruichi raised an eyebrow at this. "You still haven't answered my question."

"I'm no fool. I know you've contacts in the Gotei 13. I also know that you already knew about this." Ryuuken's glasses glinted as he examined the head of Special Ops. "This is outside the government and strictly confidential. How much do you want?"

* * *

"Are you two dating?"

Ichigo spat his food out. Chad handed his friend a small cup of tea while Orihime patted Rukia on the back.

"Hell no," Ichigo managed to gasp out after a pot of weak tea. "No way in hell."

"I just _met_ him," Rukia added.

"Oh. You two just seemed to get along really well that I thought..." Orihime's voice trailed off, and then she shook herself. "Never mind. I'm just being silly. Oh dear, why did my chopsticks break into three instead of two?"

* * *

She picked the photo up again and examined it. Dark hair and eyes, glasses, a thin angular face, determination that resonated through film and camera lenses. The security tapes from the Ishida mansion were on her desk, still untouched. Uryuu Ishida's folder was open on her desk.

She would be a fool to take this on. She would be a fool not to. Ryuuken Ishida had enough power to, if not boot her from her position (she'd be _damned_ if she let anyone try and control her), at least make her job very uncomfortable.

Her thoughts drifted back to earlier in the afternoon. Sado and Orihime were too green to be put on such an important case, but...

She smiled and picked up the phone. Time to call in a favour.

* * *

"I am NOT paying for that," Ichigo roared.

"You're just a sore loser!" Rukia shot back.

"You had FIVE drinks! Who the hell drinks that much milk tea?"

"Stop being so cheap!"

Ichigo's face was so red it was almost purple. "CHEAP? Who are you calling cheap, you UNDERHANDED BITCH?"

"What? I can't hear you over the CHEEPING OF THE CHEAP LITTLE CHICKENS."

Orihime and Chad watched them argue with equally bemused expressions. They exchanged looks and Chad nodded before standing up, handing the server a few bills and then sitting back down. Orihime gave him a bit of cash and he pocketed it silently.

He gave them three minutes before they were kicked out.

* * *

He cracked open his right eye and shut it immediately when he saw light. It hurt his eyes, burnt the insides of his eyelids, and made his head just _ache_.

"Get up, kid."

Uryuu carefully pried his eyes open, trying not to wince. His mouth tasted like ashes and cotton, and there was a dull throbbing in his ribs and head, and he could tell by the way his hair was matted together that there was congealed blood. He swore, quickly, silently and efficiently. Someone was going to pay for this.

"Be nice to him. He's hurt," a small voice scolded. Uryuu blinked. It sounded young, and he turned his head very cautiously to see a small girl, maybe four or five years old clinging onto the leg of his kidnapper.

"Fucking pansy. Can't even take a few knocks," muttered his kidnapper. Uryuu could not help but notice the black spikes of hair, the missing teeth or the eyepatch. "Drink this."

The little girl detached herself, and took a large, tall glass of murky brown stuff with a giant straw stuck in it. It was the straws that they had in bubble-tea places. He drank a bit of whatever it was and spat it out. A hand tugged at his hair, pulling him from his seat painfully and forced his mouth open and he nearly choked as he gagged down the remainder of whatever it was.

"Stay alive, kid. It's in your best interest," his kidnapper said, releasing him so that he fell forward with a slump in his chair. "C'mon Yachiru, let's leave this loser."

The little girl examined Uryuu for a long moment. "He's not usually this mean," she said to him, and then skipped out the door.

"Wait," croaked out Uryuu. The little girl looked at him and he raised a brow at her. "Could you turn off the lights?"

She pursed her lips, looked at her guardian who made a disgruntled noise, but flicked the switch before slamming the door shut behind him, leaving Uryuu with nothing to keep him company except for the wretched taste in his mouth, the constant ache of his head and the blessed, complete darkness.

* * *

Rukia thanked Orihime for the ride, grabbing her purse. Orihime looked at Rukia for a long moment, and Rukia blinked, disconcerted. Orihime was one of the strangest people she had ever met, and she knew quite a few.

"You don't need to keep secrets from Ichigo," Orihime said finally. "He'll understand."

"Err..."

Orihime laughed. "Oh, never mind. Sorry, I'm just being silly again. Tatsuki says I'm like that too much. Say, do you like him? Ichigo, I mean. If you do, we could gang up together on him and there's no chance he would win and..." her voice trailed off.

Rukia stared at her blankly as she tried to process the words, get her breath and heart to start up again, and remove her hand where it strayed automatically to her Walther. This girl was really _weird_. "Oh no, no, we're just partners. There's nothing like that between us."

"You don't have someone else do you?" Orihime asked, curious.

Rukia's answering smile was just the slightest bit wry and nostalgic. "No," she answered after a long moment. "Not really."

Orihime examined her for a long moment and then gave a smile so wide that Rukia was scared her face would crack into two halves. "I want to be friends with you, Rukia Kuchiki."

"That'd be nice." Rukia held out a hand, but Orihime surprised her by reaching over to pull her into a hug.

"I'm glad. I like making new friends. Here's my number, call me sometime. I'll make you my super-duper special peanut butter lychee dumplings!"

Rukia extracted herself from Orihime's hold. "Sure," she said softly. "I'd like that."

* * *

After apologizing to Chad for getting them kicked out of the cafe and discreetly shoving bills into his friend's jacket pocket, Ichigo prepared himself for a long inquisition. "Well," he said to himself, sticking his key into the lock, "here goes nothing." He pushed open the door.

"Ichigo! My beloved son!" boomed Isshin. His father came running at him, arms outstretched. Ichigo avoided him deftly, sticking a leg out to trip his father so that he could run up the stairs and lock himself in his room. Isshin, however, proved much more agile and even as he fell on his face, he pulled his son's leg. There would be a _bruise_ tomorrow, Ichigo was sure of this.

"You would try to maim your own father, I am hurt!"

"You're fucking insane, old man," muttered Ichigo, but lay his head on the floor.

"I heard from my old partner, Kisuke today! How is he? Healthy? Did you try the pastries? I told him to go to that bakery a few blocks from the station. Best croissants ever!" Isshin rolled to his feet and Ichigo grudgingly followed suit. "My son, I have heard the good news! You've a new partner! A _female_ partner!"

"Fucking nosy tattletale of a section chief," swore Ichigo under his breath, making his way up the stairs.

"My son, where are you going? Your sisters are here, and Yuzu is already plotting your wedding to this Miss Rukia Kuchiki! Just think about it, by this time next year, I will have grandkids! Twins! Lots of babies for me to play with!" Isshin spun on a foot, stumbled and caught himself against a wall. Ichigo had to refrain from throwing something at his old man's head. For one thing, there was nothing to throw; Isshin had learned from last time.

"I need a shower. And then I'm going to bed."

"But you must tell me about this Rukia! Is she pretty? Is she rich? Does she have wide hips, capable of bearing many grandchildren for me? You must tell me, Ichigo? Have you given up trying to control the wild beast raging insid--"

"There is _no wild beast_, you fucking letch."

"--e of you? Why, Ichigo, my son, denial is not a good thing!" Isshin grabbed his eldest child before Ichigo could bolt (why he didn't do so before, Ichigo would never know nor understand; he figured it was 'frightened deer in headlights' syndrome or something similar) and dragged him to the kitchen. "You must start having sex soon, my son! Without sex, you cannot procreate. Not unless she's Catholic, which means that she ca--"

Ichigo's fist connected with his father's jaw with a satisfying _crack_. Just as Isshin was picking himself off the floor, Ichigo bolted to the bathroom, triple locking the door and then locking the window as well, just to be safe. With his father, you never knew.

"How could you? My eyes, they shed tears for your betrayal! Ichigo, are you masturbating in the shower? Preparing for your upcoming wedding?"

"Someone kill me now," Ichigo groaned, trying not to bang his head against the wall. It was going to be a _very_ long night.

_end chapter two  
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**Notes: **Because I wrote this as a variation off of NaNoWriMo, some parts may meander a bit. I was aiming for word count more than anything else, so you have been warned. Next chapter should be up this weekend, barring anything untoward.

This is actually divided into three storylines that'll intersect at certain points. The first is "_Gen-X Cops_" and concentrates more on Ichigo, Rukia and Renji (Ichigo/Rukia/Renji also happens to be my OT3). The second is "_Young and Dangerous_," which is mostly about Orihime, Chad, Tatsuki and Ishida. Last, but not least is, "_Infernal Affairs_," which is all about the Gotei 13, with bits and pieces of Renji and Rukia.

All three sections are (very) loosely based on Hong Kong triad movies all going by the same titles. Also, I tend not to ship exclusively, so don't expect anything to be clear-cut (e.g. Ichigo/Rukia or Renji/Rukia).

**Up next: **Renji and the Gotei 13. Hitsugaya and Matsumoto make their debut alongside Byakuya.


	3. Infernal Affairs I

**Summary: **Rookie cop Ichigo learns that some things are most definitely not what they seem, especially when he gets partnered up with Rukia. Meanwhile, Urahara offers Renji a "get out of jail" card when he asks him to infiltrate the mob known as the Gotei 13. At the same time, the Ishida heir goes missing, and it's up to Special Operatives Chad, Orihime and Tatsuki to find him and bring him back.

Written for NaNoWriMo redux, December 2005/January 2006, which took place on lj. In total, it's about 86, 000 words, approximately. I've edited it slightly for typos, but not really much else. The writing isn't my best, but it's my first try at something that's not either humour/parody or cotton candy-esque romance. There are about thirty chapters, give or take, and I'll be posting as I edit, which probably won't be very quick.

* * *

Renji parked Zabimaru and walked the two blocks to Hong Kong's most notorious escort club, the Division 10. It was the place businessmen went to, their Armani suits stuffed with cash and watches encrusted with diamonds. Renji, with his bomber jacket, red hair and tattoos stood out, but he was seated and given a drink. The bartender raised a brow at him across the room, his bald head shining brilliantly under the club's subdued lights. Renji subtly raised his glass at Ikkaku, glad for a friendly face. 

Girls converged on him, cooing, asking for his name. He bit his lip and turned red under the onslaught and asked for the Ash Cat. One of the girls, a redhead, extricated herself from the group, muttering, "I _knew_ he was a boobs man."

"Oh, he likes much more than that Cherry," her manager told her, laughing, sliding in amongst the girls to sit beside Renji. "Much more than that. It's been a while, Renji." Her blonde hair spilled over her shoulders, and the shirt she wore was near bursting at the seams, her ample cleavage fair spilling out of what would have been an otherwise modest outfit. She winked at the girls, and they all made noises but slid off the sofa, each of them leaving kisses on Renji's cheeks or lingering touches on his arms, hands or flushed cheeks. He downed his drink with alacrity, signalled for another. The woman laughed.

"Still in love with Rukia, I see. What brings you here, after all these years? Managed to wrangle an early parole?" she murmured, bringing a long, tapered finger up to toy with his collar. "Or did prison really change you into a tits and ass man?"

"Hyourinmaru," he said, his spine stiffening when she laughed in his ear, soundlessly, but her breath stirred his hair. "I want to get into the fucking Hyourinmaru, Matsumoto an--stop that!" He squeaked and Rangiku snickered before withdrawing, her eyes cool but amused.

"What makes you think you can get back in?" she asked, raising a brow.

"Please Ran, you owe me a favour from all those years ago. I need to see Kuchiki."

"Why?"

A girl brought him his drink. He downed it and shook his head. "It won't get you in trouble. I promise."

She was silent for a moment, all laughter gone from her face. "Let me talk to my boss."

"Tell the squirt I said hi."

She rolled her eyes at him, but snapped her fingers at the girls that weren't entertaining other customers, who immediately flooded the poor redhead. Laughing to herself, she went behind the bar, into the kitchen and past the freezer to a small, non-descript door. Knocking twice, pausing, then three times quickly, she let herself in. "Abarai's back," she said, shutting the door behind her.

Toushirou Hitsugaya looked at her, his eyes thoughtful. "Abarai? What does he want?"

"To get into the Hyourinmaru. He wants to see Byakuya."

An expletive hissed from between Hitsugaya's teeth before he could check it. "Who told him he was here?"

"Wouldn't say. What do you want me to do?"

Hitsugaya was silent. "I'll deal with Kuchiki. Go back out and watch Abarai."

She was about to leave when she paused and added, "Oh, and he says hi."

Hitsugaya's mouth quirked. "Ever one for etiquette. Give him my regards as well."

Rangiku let herself out, quickly and silently and Hitsugaya sat at his desk, organized his papers, put them away and locked the cabinets and his desk. He let himself out, just as quickly and silently as his manager had, and locked the door behind him before trailing quietly through the kitchen and not out through the bar, but through another, non-descript and silent door. He went through two more doors, and just before he opened the last, he could hear the sound of mahjong tiles clicking against one another, ivory against ivory, scraping against the felt of his tables, rising over the muted chatter of some of Hong Kong's most notorious gangsters. He pushed the door open.

There was cigarette smoke, cocaine, alcohol, but no girls. It was not that kind of night. As young as he was, Hitsugaya would never have allowed any of his girls become unwitting and ignorant witnesses to the deals that these men would make over games of ivory tiles or plastic cards. He knew how lethal this world could be for outsiders, and he knew just how unbelieveably lucky he was to have made it this far.

At seventeen, Toushirou Hitsugaya owned Hong Kong's most notorious underground gambling den. He had opened it when he was fifteen with savings he had made from two years of illegal mahjong games, scraping by the skin of his teeth, his youth and sharp words, edged with just the right amount of honesty. Orphaned at nine years old, he stumbled from foster home to foster home, and into a small, dirty gambling den by mistake as a busboy. He watched games unfold beneath his eyes, his brain calculating probabilities, made small adjustments, and old man Yamato one day had noticed this small boy with strange hair and piercing eyes and invited him to stand in for him for a game. Hitsugaya had won that game, won the next one, and the one after that, and by the end of the night, Yamamato had given him the winnings and his patronage. He had been thirteen.

"Abarai is here. He wants to see you," he murmured in Kuchiki's ear when the round had finished, his hands in front of him. Never put your hands behind your back, gangsters will never trust you. Never put your hands in your pockets, gangsters will think you're hiding something. Never leave without a hidden weapon, gangsters will call you a fool. These little rules had been ingrained in him at thirteen, would stay with him forever. He was seventeen and had seen and done more than most people had at seventy.

Byakuya's eyes flickered towards him. Attuned to their peer's moods, Shunsui Kyouraku, Jyuushirou Ukitake and Sousuke Aizen's hands never stilled, stacking ivory tiles with ease. Byakuya seemed to pause, thinned his mouth and nodded once. Hitsugaya disappeared outside, took out his cell phone and pressed a familiar button. Moments later, Rangiku showed up, dragging a fairly grumpy looking Renji behind her.

"You have ten minutes. Make good use of them," Hitsugaya told him, divesting the redhead of his weapons. "You'll get these back afterwards."

Renji gave the kid a sour look, made a fist and rested it softly on his head in the only gesture of affection that they had ever shared between them before going through the doors. The mafia lords of the Gotei 13 did not even acknowledge his entrance, merely continued with their game. Renji waited.

When Shunsui claimed the next round, Byakuya looked up. "Early parole?"

Renji opened his mouth, shut it and flushed. He looked at his former boss and said, "Not here."

Byakuya paused, nodded, stubbed his cigarette out and stood. "I'll be a moment."

They moved inside. The public part of the Hyourinmaru was quiet, empty. It was only open to other illicit gamblers during the weekends and holidays. Fish tanks lined the walls, sleepy turtles eyeing them with disinterest before continuing their hundred year naps while fish bumped into walls, their bright scales wavering in the water's inconstant surface. The plush carpet made no sound beneath their feet, varnished oak gleamed even in the dim lights they had turned on and it was entirely soundproof. Renji hadn't been here for years.

"They want me to be a double agent for them. In exchange, they won't put Rukia's ass in jail," said Renji without preamble.

Byakuya did not even hesitate. "Why are you telling me this then?"

Renji snorted. "You think I want to work for the fuckers that put me in that hellhole for two fucking years?" He looked away then and rubbed the back of his neck, his tattoo peeping through his fingers. "What the hell were you thinking putting Rukia in as a double agent?"

"She's capable," Byakuya said coolly. "If she weren't, I wouldn't have let her."

"She's going to get caught."

Byakuya pulled out a gold case, extracted a long cigarette and lit it. Smoked. "If she does, then she deserves it."

"She's your _sister_."

"And I can't be responsible for all of her actions." Byakuya's words were laced with warning and Renji subsided, rubbing his forehead. Byakuya took a puff, blew smoke in Renji's face and finally said, "We'll be careful. Anyone watching you?"

"Not that I know of. Urahara's a fucking idiot."

Byakuya's face flickered. "Ah, so it was him. I thought so. Very well then. The usual arrangements for this kind of thing." Byakuya paused. "Do not think this means I trust you, Renji."

Renji scowled. "I know. I'm not an idiot."

"I want you to find the spy among us. There is one. I am certain of it."

"Yeah, there is," muttered Renji. "That asshole admitted to it."

"Very well then. Find him or her, and you can be my second in command again. Do not disappoint me this time." Byakuya gave Renji a once over, his eyes glittering, and added, "The account number is the same. Please dress accordingly."

Renji muttered something under his breath, but nodded, bowed and waited for Byakuya to leave before he straightened. Matsumoto was waiting for him, and he shrugged. "Thanks."

"Is she really worth it?" she asked, her tone serious.

Renji sighed and ran his hands through his hair, dislodging his ponytail. "I don't know," he admitted.

Rangiku studied him for a moment before dropping his weapons into his hands. "For your sake, I hope she is."

* * *

Dawn was just beginning to break as she shooed the last of her girls out of Division 10. Toushirou had left hours ago, an implicit trust in his second. Even now, when she thought about it, it made her preen. 

She was turning off the lights in Hyourinmaru after checking to make sure that everything was in order (cigarette ash gone, little white powder hidden, safe locked) when a pair of strong arms encircled her waist and a breathy, "Miss me?" was whispered into her ear.

"I've work to do," she said, closing her eyes for an instant before breaking Gin's hold and turning around. She leaned the expensive mahjong table, raising a perfect eyebrow. Her fingers gripped the edge, feeling smooth, varnished wood under her palms. Her nails barely scraped the undersides. "I thought you were out of the country."

He grinned. "I missed you."

"Bastard," she said, but it was half-hearted.

"Do I get a welcome home kiss?" he murmured, drawing closer and placing his arms on either side of her on the table so that she was trapped. "Perhaps something more?"

"No."

Gin's eyes widened, then his face creased into one of the largest smiles she had ever seen, his teeth brilliant even in Hyourinmaru's dim lights. "There's no need to be hasty," he murmured.

She bared her teeth, her wrist twisting so that the knife in her hand gleamed. She had taken it from under the mahjong table, ripping the duct tape from the underside so slowly that Gin hadn't even noticed. Or if he had, he chose not to. "Hasty?" she purred. "Who said anything about being hasty?"

He did not move and she was aware that her breath was coming much faster and of the knife between them, lethally sharp and its point just grazing his throat. She was equally aware of the rise and fall of her chest, the way his arms did not move from their position around her and that her skirt was awfully tight. He leaned a little towards her, and she narrowed her eyes.

"Put the knife away, Ran. You can play with mine instead."

She stared at him for a long moment, and then burst into loud, racuous laughter. As charming as Gin could be, she found it both amusing and irritating when he turned his charm on her. "I can't believe you said that."

"You didn't like it? I'm hurt." He grabbed the hand that was holding the knife and forced it down into her lap before burying his face into the junction between her shoulder and neck. "I've had a long trip."

She sighed and brought her free hand up so that it brushed his soft, baby-fine hairs, tilting her head back as he started trailing his lips up towards her jaw. Then, gently, she pushed him away, the knife in her hand waving a little wildly and more than a little dangerously as she gestured with it. "I've things to do here."

He pouted, but gave her one last kiss (short, sweet, lingering) and pulled away from her. "Do you want me to wait up for you?"

"No. I'm not in the mood."

His eyes never left hers. She never could name their colour, could never see behind their veils. Even during intercourse, she had the feeling that he was always thinking, calculating the next shipment of drugs, the choreography of their bodies during sex, or his next 'business' trip. It was unnerving, and Rangiku was too wise to try and really read behind his veils and walls. She twirled the knife in her hand and waited for him to leave. When he did, she sighed a long, shuddering sigh, dropped the knife and ran her hands through her hair a few times before tucking the blade into the waist of her skirt, the edge cool and comforting against her thigh. Turning off the lights and locking the door behind her, she gave the room one last, wistful look.

Too bad he pissed her off; sex on a mahjong table would have been interesting.

_end part three_

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* * *

_

Thank you to reviewers, especially those that have complimented me on my characterization. Well, it's good to know that sometimes, if you try, you won't fail. You might even succeed.

**Notes: **Escort clubs are clubs where men go have a drink and sit down to talk and flirt with girls that work there. Usually, the more talented the girl, the more money they make from tips and the such that night. It's a pretty sleazy thing, but fairly popular in most big cities, though somewhat underground. The "Division 10" is the escort club and houses (somewhere near the back) "Hyourinmaru," which is an illegal gambling den. And yes, this takes place in Hong Kong. I did base this off of a variety of HK triad movies. Where else could I have put it?

Someone asked me what the ships for this fic are, and well, I don't ship exclusively. They tend to vary from one thing to another, so don't think that anything in the early chapters is an indication for whatever "ship" that may come. Yes, that means that Ichigo/Rukia may not end up together, nor Gin/Rangiku. Same goes for Renji/Rukia or any other ship that may happen. There is no actual "canon ship" in the series, and I wanted to keep it that way. I'm fickle and flighty at heart anyway, so there's just no way I could've written over eighty thousand words without changing my mind at least a few times. XDXDXD The next chapter should be up in a week or two, depending.

** Up next**: Rukia catches up with Renji while on the job, and piques Ichigo's interest.


	4. GenX Cops II

**Summary: **Rookie cop Ichigo learns that some things are most definitely not what they seem, especially when he gets partnered up with Rukia. Meanwhile, Urahara offers Renji a "get out of jail" card when he asks him to infiltrate the mob known as the Gotei 13. At the same time, the Ishida heir goes missing, and it's up to Special Operatives Chad, Orihime and Tatsuki to find him and bring him back.

Written for NaNoWriMo redux, December 2005/January 2006, which took place on lj. In total, it's about 86, 000 words, approximately. I've edited it slightly for typos, but not really much else. The writing isn't my best, but it's my first try at something that's not either humour/parody or cotton candy-esque romance. There are about thirty chapters, give or take, and I'll be posting as I edit, which probably won't be very quick.

* * *

They marked cars and placed tickets with quick efficiency, scowling the entire time.

"We're fucking glorified traffic cops," Ichigo said, pausing for a moment to look up at the sky, wince and wipe his forehead. It was a warm day.

"You didn't have to tell Chief that his hair looked like a used mop," Rukia informed him, sliding a piece of paper under a wiper.

"I always tell him that," grumbled Ichigo, but had to admit that she had a point. "Look, I'm sorry about this. I'll talk to him today an--"

She waved a hand at him. "Nah, it's fine." He gave her a disbelieving look. "I left my wallet at home today. You can pay for lunch."

He opened his mouth and snapped it shut when he realized that it was the least he could do. Not that he hadn't been paying for all their meals for the two weeks they had been partnered. He had discovered very early on that it was sometimes just easier to suck it up and pick up the bill. Of course, that meant swiping her wallet to steal a couple of bills later to make up for the outrageous tabs, something that Rukia protested to, but he had also learned how to tune out her voice when he wanted to.

"Time for a break," Rukia said cheerfully, sliding into the driver's seat. Ichigo blanched when he noticed her twirling the keys around her index finger. He had learned the hard way that it was best not to let Rukia drive; in fact, the one and only time he had ever let her drive, he tumbled out of the car gasping, clutching his chest and telling his partner that he'd pay for a /month's/ worth of lunches if she agreed never to drive again.

"Uh, Rukia, did you forget our de--"

A motorcycle zoomed by them, going at least fourty over the limit. Rukia revved the engine.

"Get in," she ordered, and dragged his shirt collar, pulling him in and then stepping on the gas. The passenger side door shut with a very final sounding 'bang.'

"Rukia, you fuckin--holy SHIT, WATCH FOR LITTLE OLD LADIES CROSSING THE STREET WOULD YOU?" screamed Ichigo, clawing for the seatbelt as Rukia's eyes narrowed and wove in and out of traffic, pedestrians and red lights in an attempt to catch their illicit motorcyclist. "We're on break remember?"

"Just one more," Rukia said cheerfully, reaching over to turn the radio on. "My, it's certainly a quiet day."

"Rukia, we're out of our distric--FUCK, IF THAT LEAVES A SCRATCH I AM NOT PAYING FOR IT."

"It won't," she replied with such absolute certainty that Ichigo almost believed her. Almost.

"That motorcycle looks familiar," she said under her breath as she shifted gears, her feet moving lightly under the dash. "And so does that--oh _damn_."

The curse made Ichigo's head pop up before he had to put both hands on the window to keep it from smacking against the glass. Rukia _never_ swore. "What?"

Rukia did not reply, but Ichigo did not like the look in her eyes. Not _at all_. Clinging for life, he closed his eyes and began reciting Hail Marys and Our Fathers, the first time since he left his Catholic schoolboy life behind at the tender age of seven. When he opened his eyes to take a quick peek, and he nearly had another shit fit. Rukia had managed to maneuver them onto the highway, weaving in and out of cars, the sirens blaring. Rukia looked almost _happy_, her left hand moving back and forth on the steering wheel so quickly that it was almost a blur, her right hand shifting gears with a precision that was almost uncanny.

"I haven't had this much fun since the last time I was at the arcades," she said gleefully over obnoxiously loud Canto-pop. Hong Kong's cityline melted by them at a hundred and seventy kilometres per hour.

Right. Never go to the arcade with her. She'd kick his ass at Initial D.

Much to Ichigo's surprise (and horror), they actually managed to catch up to their delinquent motorcyclist. His motorcycle was a bright red, and it was surprisingly garish and gaudy. From what Ichigo could tell, there was a long, coiling snake painted on one side, and a baboon like figure on the other. Red hair peeped from the ends of the helmet, and the bomber jacket the cyclist was wearing was, well, it matched the motorcycle. To say the least.

Rukia grinned when they pulled up beside the motorcyclist, and then floored the gas, before turning sharply, so much so that the car made several three-sixties with a screeching of tires as the anti-lock was activated. Her hands quickly and frantically manipulated the gears, and they stopped about several hundred feet before the motorcyclist, who looked like he was frantically trying to brake himself. In the end, cyclist threw himself off the bike and let it careen into the side railings, sparks flying as metal scraped against concrete.

Before Rukia could do anything, Ichigo unbuckled his seatbelt, leaned over and yanked the keys out of the ignition. He just hoped she didn't make spares, he thought grimly as he opened the passenger door and tried to crawl out. His legs were too shaky to stand on.

"What the hell do you think you were doing?" Rukia asked, already out of the car and their book of citations in her hand. "You were going eighty past the limit, you idiot."

Odd. It sounded as if Rukia knew the fellow. Ichigo stood up, levering himself up by using the door. The cyclist had taken his helmet off, and his red hair was even more obnoxious than Ichigo's, which took some doing.

"What the fuck did you think you were doing with a stunt like that? You could've /killed/ someone," the redheaded fellow snarled back, taking a hold of Rukia's shoulders and shaking her violently.

"She almost _did_. At least seven times," Ichigo said suddenly, his legs regaining life. "You're paying for lunch, Rukia."

She looked at him, her eyes wide. "But I forgot my wallet." Then grinned. "Renji here can pay."

"Like hell. Look what you did to my bike," scowled Renji, who had hobbled over to pick it up.

"I did you a favour. Zabimaru needed a new paint job anyway," Rukia informed him, sweetly. She paused. "And didn't anyone tell you that tie-dye bomber jackets were never in? Not even in the eighties."

"Fuck you," Renji replied, half-heartedly.

"And you've three traffic violations: speeding, two counts of dangerous driving, and one more just because I feel like," Rukia continued, ignoring him. "You can pay by credit card, cash or cheque. The address is on the other side. You're lucky we're not suspending your license."

"Fuck this shit. Thanks to you, I'm without a ride for the next two weeks, at least."

Ichigo cleared his throat, and Renji and Rukia jumped. They looked at him and Ichigo raised an eyebrow. Rukia flushed. "Introductions, Rukia?"

"Ichigo, the dumbass here is Renji Abarai," she said, slanting her eyes. "Renji, this is my new partner, Ichigo Kurosaki." Both of them started when they heard the other's names, and swore, almost with the same breath.

"My dad put you in the slammer," remarked Ichigo.

"Your dad's fucking insane," retorted Renji, crouching and examining his motorcycle with a wince.

"Yeah, no argument from me. Need a ride?"

They dropped Renji's motorcycle off at the nearest shop, Ichigo driving the entire time. "Fuck, a half hour left of our break. This is all your fault, Rukia."

"You always blame things on me," she said, bitterly.

"It's because they're probably your fault," Renji piped up from the back. Rukia twisted in her seat to glare at him, and Renji smirked at her through the bars. "I hate these things," he added, running his fingers along the wires.

"Yeah, they're like a fucking cage," said Ichigo. "Say, how do you guys know one another?"

From the rearview mirror, he could see Renji shift uncomfortably. Rukia shrugged. "We were fostered together for a short while," she said.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

Ichigo's brows knitted. "You were adopted?"

"Yeah." Rukia looked out the window. "Can we drop the subject?"

"Well..." Renji's voice trailed off and even Ichigo could hear the grin in it. "Rukia, after all these years, how come you still haven't managed to grow?"

"Screw you," she hissed, and crossed her arms.

"Nah, no fun," Renji said amiably, leaning back comfortably in the seat. "So, did they have to get a kid's Hallowe'en costume for your uniform?"

Ichigo snickered, and turned it into a cough when Rukia pulled her revolver out. "Does anyone else want to say anything?" she asked sweetly.

"Erm, we're fine," said Ichigo quickly.

"Yeah," agreed Renji.

"Good." She shoved her gun back into its holster. "So who's paying for lunch?"

* * *

Ichigo swore under his breath as he parallel parked his Honda into a particularly tight spot. "Tell me why I'm here again instead of on my way home?"

"Because I said I'd tell Chief that you were hitting on me," Rukia told him, absently twirling a strand of hair around her finger. "And because Renji needs a new wardrobe."

"What the hell do I have to do with this?"

"Yeah, what the hell does he have to do with this?" Renji asked, his hands resting on the shoulders of the passenger seat from behind. "And my wardrobe is _fine_."

"Ichigo can help me wrestle you into new clothes," Rukia replied sweetly. "And tie-dye bomber jackets are not fine, Renji."

"Psh, shows what you know."

Ichigo turned off his ignition and craned his neck behind him. "You know," he said slowly, "she kinda has a point."

"See? Now, we can go into Gi--" Rukia said triumphantly, choking when Renji's hands clapped on her mouth.

"What? You don't want to go anywhere? You want to go home? Okay, let's go--ow FUCK! Let GO."

She glared at Renji and only bit harder. Ichigo sighed.

"Let's just get this over with," he muttered and unlocked the doors, including the child safety lock. He had only known Renji for something around the area of four hours, but when Rukia mentioned 'shopping', Renji's eyes darted to the doors and windows with an alacrity that made Ichigo engage the child lock.

Ichigo really, really, _really_ hated his life.

Rukia managed to drag them through Sogo, skipping through throngs of people, and into the milling mass of Causeway Bay. School had let out an hour ago, and there were girls in their skirts, boys in their untucked shirts and loose ties and knapsacks all around. "Now this," she declared, "is more like it."

Ichigo's head hurt. He was sure Renji's did too.

They stopped at one of the quieter streets, a little ways up from the Times Square the main stores. The noise receded a little, and Rukia dragged them willy-nilly into a small, fairly non-descript store. Cautiously, they followed.

It was a men's clothing store, and for such a small space, held quite a variety. Rukia hummed to herself, going through the racks, and dragging things out, checking sizes and either shaking her heads at some of the printed graphics and monograms, or brightening. She did away with all reds and scarlets, wrinkled her nose at most greens, and _laughed_ when Renji tentatively suggested that he choose his own clothing.

"Now go try these on," she said, shoving the bundle into his arms and pushing him into a ridiculously small changing room. It wasn't even a room, but a corner with a curtain hanging from a cheap rod.

"No fucking way in hell. I'm not going to dress like _him_." Renji jutted his chin at Ichigo.

"Hey, what's wrong with the way I dress?"

"No offense, but it's the whole yuppie aura thingy you got. Not your fault you look like a wuss."

Ichigo made a rumbling noise. "You want to take this outside, you asshole?"

Renji seemed only too happy to acquiesce, dumping Rukia's selections in the small space. Rukia, however, jumped in between them, kicked Renji's shins and elbowed Ichigo's ribs at the same time. It was quite a feat.

"Stop being difficult and try them on," she said, exasperated, and pushed Renji into the changing room before he could reply, snapping the curtain around him.

The next ten minutes were the most headache-inducing of Ichigo's life, bar the moments that involved his father, Urahara and karaoke. Renji would come out, his shirts half-buttoned (or not at all) and pants slung too low and Rukia would scowl and tell him to wear his clothes properly. Renji would scowl and say that he was and that it wasn't his fault that the clothes didn't fit properly, and it would start an entirely new argument about Rukia's taste versus Renji's wardrobe.

When Renji had disappeared behind the orange curtain for a third time, Rukia slid a sideways glance at Ichigo and pursed her lips. "Go in there, please?"

Ichigo, who had just begun zoning out, snapped straight to attention at that. "WHAT?"

"Go in there and help him dress," she said, exasperated. "He can't even button his own shirts properly."

"Hell no. You go in there and help him. I'm going home."

She raised an eyebrow at this. "Oh? Without these?" She dangled his car keys and he felt the blood drain from his face.

"Give those back to me," he hissed, swiping at them. She hid behind the store owner, who was watching the entire exchange with a look of dazed amusement. "Where the fuck did you get them from?"

She stuck her tongue out before replying, "I just stuck my hand in your pocket. Wasn't that hard."

"You _stole_ them?"

"Borrowed," she said primly. "As if you agree to go in there and help that idiot," she tilted her head towards the curtain, "then I'll give them back to you. I even promise not to try and drive."

Ichigo's eyes widened at the thought of Rukia driving his car, and without another word, strode to the curtain, yanked it aside and then went in.

"WHAT THE FUCK?"

"She has my car keys."

"...Fuck."

"Here, put this on and this. And do it PROPERLY, or else I'm going to fucking kick your ass."

"Don't touch me, you fucking perv."

"Oh, why don't I just call her in here and _she_ can do this for you."

"No fucking way, are you insane? Besides, she'd get lost in one of these."

Thoughtful pause. "You know, that's not a bad idea."

"What?"

"Throwing one of these shirts on her head, snatching the keys and running the fuck away."

"I can hear you," Rukia carrolled. "Are you done yet, Renji?"

"Go shop in the kid's section! I'll do this on my own!" howled Renji.

She grinned and rattled the keys in her hand for a reply. There was a muffled curse and then Ichigo pushed Renji out. Rukia raised an eyebrow and the store owner made appreciative noises.

"Not bad, Abarai. Better than the previous jacket," she finally said.

"Fuck you. I like that jacket," Renji hissed, but rubbed the back of his neck. Against the collar of the leather trench coat he was wearing, his tattoos stood out starkly against his pale skin, the collar of his cream shirt opened at the top to show the continuing line of black ink, and then fitted charcoal pants. "I look like a priss."

"Nah, my brother will like it."

"Your brother _is_ a priss," muttered Renji.

Rukia ignored him. "What do you think, Rookie?"

"Don't call me that," scowled Ichigo, peering through the curtain. "And can we go yet?"

Rukia pursed her lips. "We'll take this, the second outfit, and the fifth one," she told the shop clerk, handing over a credit card. "Also, dispose of the old clothing for me, would you?"

"Fuck, that's my jacket."

Ignoring Renji, she continued, "Also, those sunglasses, that watch and does this wallet come in black?"

Ichigo snickered softly behind Renji. "You're going to look like a gangster," he said. "Oh wow, look at me, big baddie on a motorcycle."

"Shut up," said Renji automatically, before processing the words. Then he froze. Rukia apparently caught wind of what Ichigo had said, because she caught Renji's eye, shook her head slightly and then went back to talking about prices. Renji deflated.

Ichigo's eyes narrowed, then his countenance smoothed itself out. There was something definitely going on that he wasn't privy to, but he didn't really care. Anyway, Renji seemed like a good guy. Maybe prison had changed the idiot.

Then again, maybe not.

There was the sound of a charge, and then Rukia going, "Oh Renji, come sign this receipt would you?"

"You stole my credit card, you fucking BITCH!"

Ichigo sighed. Then again, if this was a new and improved Renji, he didn't want to see the old one. He was probably even dumber than this one.

_end chapter four_

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**Notes: **This chapter's mostly filler, other than the fact that I now have Ichigo, Rukia and Renji all together. Mostly, this was to up wordcount, nothing really significant.

To the reviewer that asked, I'm sort of sketchily acquainted with Hong Kong. The fic is sort of, well, not based on, but more like ripped off of HK triad movies, so it's only apt that they stay in Hong Kong.

Thank you all for the reviews, by the by. I really do appreciate them.

**Up next**: Infernal Affairs - We meet Momo, Aizen, and how they're connected with Rukia et al.


	5. Infernal Affairs II

**Summary: **Rookie cop Ichigo learns that some things are most definitely not what they seem, especially when he gets partnered up with Rukia. Meanwhile, Urahara offers Renji a "get out of jail" card when he asks him to infiltrate the mob known as the Gotei 13. At the same time, the Ishida heir goes missing, and it's up to Special Operatives Chad, Orihime and Tatsuki to find him and bring him back.

Written for NaNoWriMo redux, December 2005/January 2006, which took place on lj. In total, it's about 86, 000 words, approximately. I've edited it slightly for typos, but not really much else. The writing isn't my best, but it's my first try at something that's not either humour/parody or cotton candy-esque romance. There are about thirty chapters, give or take, and I'll be posting as I edit, which probably won't be very quick.

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She put the dishes in the sink, apologizing all the while about dinner. "If I had known that you were coming over, I would've made something a little more suitable."

He laughed. "It's fine, Momo. It was a good dinner."

Biting her lower lip, she bent her head so that he could not see the rising flush in her cheeks. She reached to turn the tap on, when he caught her hand. "It's okay, you can leave it for later. I'll get you a maid tomorrow," he said, placing his hands on her shoulders and turning her around so that she faced him. "You look upset, what's wrong?"

She shook her head. "It's nothing. Really. I'm grateful for everything you've done for me, it's just...well, the green were burnt, and I didn't make the soup early enough so it was kinda bland an--"

"Momo."

Her head shot up and he laughed, chucking her chin. She liked the way the lights glinted off his glasses, the way his demeanour changed when he smiled, or just the way he said her name. "Y-yes?"

"I didn't adopt you to make you cook for me. It was a good dinner. I should've called earlier to tell you I was coming."

"Oh no! It's fine, I'm glad you came. I haven't seen you since I moved here." She let out a frustrated sigh and hung her head. "I don't mean to sound ungrateful; it's a very nice apartment and Rukia's a wonderful roommate, it's just...I never get to see you as much anymore."

He released her and let out a long sigh. "It's better that you don't live with me. Besides, you never saw me much, with all the business trips I go on."

"I know, but knowing that you could be there the next morning is..." Momo shrugged, and gave him a wobbly half-smile. "I mean, it was comforting. I'm sorry, I'm being dramatic and making you uncomfortable."

"No, I like hearing you say that," he reassured her, ruffling her hair. "But now I know how lonely you were when I was gone, so I'm glad you're staying with someone else now. I can go on my trips without worrying about you."

She turned away and pressed her hands against the kitchen counter. "I wish you didn't have to go," she said suddenly, and immediately regretted the words. "I mean, I know you're going to make money and everything, and if you didn't go I wouldn't have this wonderful place to live in but..." she took a deep breath and closed her eyes, "I miss you. I wish I could come with you."

"Is that really what you want?"

Her head spun so fast that the bones in her neck snapped. "What do you mean?" she asked, eyes wide.

"I would like to have you with me, but my work isn't...it's dangerous. I don't know how much you kno--"

"I know you're in the mafia and that you don't really like it," she interrupted breathlessly. "I've known for a long time."

He examined her for a long moment. "How did you know?"

She shrugged. "I got up at night to get myself a snack, and I heard you on the phone. It was kinda easy to put everything together again. You're...not mad, are you?"

"No. I could never be mad at you."

She sagged with relief when she heard those words. "I'm glad," she whispered. "Does this mean that I can come with you? I promise I won't be a bother and stay out of the way."

"It's dangerous," he warned.

"I'll learn to use a gun. I'll even get Rukia to teach me!" she exclaimed.

He was silent for a long moment. The light hit his glasses and created strange pools in his eyes. Finally, he nodded, and her worried expression broke into a smile wide enough to break her face.

"Thank you," she said, and without thinking, threw her arms around him and pressed her face against his chest. Hard, strong arms came up around her, and she closed her eyes, relishing his warmth.

"Oh sorry, I'll leave you guys alone," a voice said from the doorway. Momo broke away and wiped her eyes and saw Rukia, who was dropping her shopping bags onto the floor and pushing someone else outside. She hadn't even heard the keys in the door. "Call me when you're done!" Rukia carrolled, waltzing back out.

"Wait, Rukia, it's not like that," called Momo. "You and your friend can come in."

"I think it's time I left," Sousuke said, breaking the awkwardness of the moment. "I'll call you," and leaned over to kiss her forehead, shocking Momo into silence. His departure was a little less dramatic, and when Momo recovered enough, she realized that Rukia was peering at her and grinning wide enough to do the Cheshire cat proud.

"So..." began Rukia.

"Er...where's your friend?"

"In the shower. He fell in the pool," dismissed Rukia casually. "But more importantly, why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what?" asked Momo cautiously, falling onto the sofa with a sigh. Rukia raised a brow.

"Oh, never mind then," she replied, and went into the kitchen. She came back out. "You cooked him dinner?"

"What's wrong with that?" Momo asked defensively, snatching a pillow and hugging it close to her. Rukia shrugged.

"Nothing, except you never cook. I wish I knew, I wouldn't have had to stop--Renji! That's my TOWEL!"

"You didn't give me one," the redhead snarled as he strode into their living room with only the aforementioned towel wrapped around his waist. "For once, I'm glad we went shopping today."

"Does that mea--"

"No!" and he slammed the bathroom door behind him.

Momo watched all of this with wide eyes and then started laughing. "I haven't seen him in a long time," she said, gaily.

"Yeah, he got let out a couple weeks ago."

"Is he still--"

"Nah. My brother decided that there were better things that Renji could do. Anyway, you're living here now, and the security in this complex is a lot better than the old place. Besides, I can't imagine your brother--"

"He's not my brother," interrupted Momo hastily.

"--your adopter would agree to having a strange male live with us, even if he was my bodyguard," finished Rukia smoothly. She plopped onto the sofa next to Momo, looked over her shoulder and said, "I told you to button your shirt properly! You look like a high school delinquent!"

"Your fault for making me buy these damned shirts anyway," Renji answered before falling into the armchair, spreading his arms and legs. "Hey Momo, sorry about barging in on you and lover boy earlier."

"He's _not_ my boyfriend," replied Momo, somewhat sourly.

"Coulda fooled me, but whatever. Did you make dinner? I'm hungry."

"We just ate, you fool," Rukia said, throwing a pillow at Renji's face. It connected, and he yelped before whipping it back. "But if you want to clean the kitchen, be our guest."

"Actually," Momo said, trying to defuse the situation, "Sousuke said that he'd, um, get us a maid."

Rukia blinked. "Well, I guess I wouldn't mind, but we were doing fine without one." She looked at Renji then, who was just beginning to doze off, his hair dripping onto the white fabric of their sofa. "Idiot, at least wrap a towel around your hair," she said, getting up and going into the washroom and throwing her towel at him.

"How did you manage to do that? Fall into the pool, I mean," Momo asked curiously.

Rukia grinned, and Renji scowled. "See," began Rukia, "I was giving him a tour of the clubhouse. You know, the pool, gym and all that stuff when--"

"--she pushed me in."

Momo blinked. Fought back a smile. "I see."

"He lies!" declared Rukia. "Don't listen to him, Momo! You know what a delinquent he is! Look at the way he's dressed."

"Fuck you, I don't have to take this shit from you," Renji said, getting up and dropping his used towel onto the sofa. Rukia made a noise, and he gave her the finger before slipping his soaked shoes on and leaving, slamming the door. Momo and Rukia exchanged glances, made identical faces and laughed when the door flew open again as Renji stomped into the room.

"Miss our company?"

He growled, and snatched a few bags. "Fuck you."

"Call me! You owe me dinner!"

He slammed the door shut behind him. Rukia burst into loud laughter and slid to the floor, holding her stomach. When she realized that her roommate wasn't joining in, she peered up through a curtain of hair to examine here. "Momo?"

Momo shook her head, burying her face into a couch cushion. "I might be going with Sousuke on a business trip soon."

She couldn't see, but she could most definitely feel Rukia's gaze. Finally, "I think I ought to teach you how to shoot a gun."

"I already know how," Momo admitted in a small voice.

"Oh." There was a long silence, and Momo looked at her roommate, who was regarding her with a very odd expression. "Do I really want to know?" Rukia finally asked.

"Probably not, but I got my license a few weeks ago." She paused. "He doesn't know."

Rukia sighed and leaned her head against the seat cushions, tilting her head up to watch Momo. "I wish you just asked me, but you're not dead, so I guess it's fine. Tell him I taught you."

Momo made a face. "You're not mad at me?"

"No. Why would I be?" Rukia studied Momo for a long moment. "How long have you known? About the Gotei 13, I mean."

"Since before Renji got caught."

"I should've known." Rukia's mouth quirked. "At least I've got company now when I go to the shooting range."

"How long have _you_ known?" Momo inquired.

Rukia grimaced and ran a hand through her hair. "Since I was adopted," she admitted. "The very first gift my brother gave me was my glock." She gave Momo a grin. "Hey, you free tonight?"

"Why?" asked Momo cautiously.

Rukia flashed her a smile, but even Momo could tell that it was strained. "I'm hungry again and you didn't leave any leftovers."

"Whoops." Momo shook out her hair and retied it in its customary knot. Rukia rummaged through her bags, threw a sweater at her and took another one out for herself, snipping off the tags and throwing it on over her shirt and adjusting the collar.

"Hope it fits," Rukia said, picking up her keys and cell phone. "It's a gift from Renji, so he'll be upset if it doesn't."

Momo gave a very unladylike snort. "Does he _know_ about this gift?"

Rukia's smile was geniune this time. "Nope." She locked the door and slipped an arm through her roommate's. Momo groaned, not liking the glint in her eyes.

"So..." drawled Rukia, "What's going on between you and Aizen?"

They had a fairly quiet and late dinner in a small restaurant in Central. It was just pushing eleven when Momo's cell phone rang. Rukia signalled for the cheque and listened with half an ear as she spooned the last of her dessert into her mouth.

"I didn't expect you to call. Oh, no, you're not interrupting anything, Rukia and I were just finishing a late dinner. Yeah, she was hungry again." Pause. "You need me to come now? Do I need to bring anything? Are you sure? Okay, I'll see you soon." She snapped her cell shut and cleared her throat. Rukia lifted an eyebrow.

"Big brother calling?"

"He's not my brother," Momo said, crossly, and then sighed. "Do you know where the Division 10 is? He says that he wants to meet me there."

Rukia narrowed her eyes. "Why does he want to meet you there?"

"Not sure. Said he couldn't tell me on the phone." Momo paused and Rukia dropped a few bills on the table, picked up the dull butter knife and slid it into the sleeve of her sweater. "What are you doing that for?"

"I'll tell you outside," hissed Rukia. They hurried out and hailed a taxi. Sighing, Rukia ran a hand through her hair, took Momo's purse and dumped hers on her roommate's lap. It was very heavy, much heavier than it should have been and Rukia quieted her with a shake of her head. Momo was beginning to feel apprehensive.

A few blocks later, Rukia stopped the driver, paid him and they clambered out of the red car, which had just switched it's 'for hire' sign on. Rukia led her through twisting streets and stopped when they appeared alone.

"My glock is in my bag," Rukia said in a low voice that did not carry. "Take out my ID and pass it to me. I'll keep yours. If anything happens, don't hesitate to use it."

"What about you?"

Rukia shrugged and lifted her sleeve. The faint outline of the butter knife seemed more stark under the yellow streetlights. "I'll be fine. They know me there. Besides," and there was a flash of a strained smile, "you think I'd leave the apartment without a couple of surprises?"

Momo made a sound and Rukia led her down the street. "The Division 10 is an escort club," she said in a normal voice. "Our /brothers/ go there pretty often."

Momo bit her lip and nodded. Rukia continued, in the same voice, "I'm sure one of them is probably plastered by now. Decent bar. Stupid pains, probably sleeping behind the bar with an astronomical tab."

They stopped in front of a small establishment, low lights and it didn't seem very suspicious to Momo. Rukia pushed the door open and murmured something to the hostess, who nodded and told them to wait by the bar. Momo could not help but notice that they were the only female patrons, and felt a bit more self-conscious about it as she slipped onto the stool.

"Hey Shorty, haven't seen ya around here for a while," the bartender said cheerfully. His bald head shone brilliantly under the bar's lights, and Rukia made a face at him.

"Ahh, Ikkaku. It has been a while. Thought you would've at least graduated to grander things. Didn't you want to be an actor?" asked Rukia, accepting the mudslide he slid towards her.

"Shut up."

Rukia smirked. "This is my roommate Momo. Momo, this is the resident bartender and idiot, Ikkaku."

"I thought Renji was the idiot," Momo replied without thinking.

"No arguments from me," said Ikkaku amiably, sliding her another mudslide. "He used to work here. Never saw anyone more inept at memorizing recipes and shit."

"Rukia can't even boil water," Momo said absently, sipping her drink, and blinked. "This is a mudslide?"

He winked at her and opened his mouth to reply when a voice from behind them said, "I thought I told you not to pick up more girls while on the job, Ikkaku."

Rukia turned around and wrinkled her nose. "I thought I asked for Ran," she said, fisting her hand and bopping it lightly on the voice owner's head.

"When I heard that Rukia Kuchiki was in my establishment, I thought I'd pay her a visit."

"You still haven't grown," Rukia said, looking down from her lofty vantage of the barstool. "Oh, and this is my friend, Momo--"

"--Hinamori. Yes, I know." Toushirou turned his gaze on Momo, whose eyes were wide and she had her hand over her mouth. "Hello Hinamori."

"Shiro? Is that really you?" she asked.

Hitsugaya glanced at the interested parties around them. "Not here. Follow me." Ducking behind the bar, he gestured them to follow. Picking up their drinks, Rukia did so, humming and dragging Momo behind her through doors and finally to a small, sparse office. There was a folder on the desk, and Hitsugaya closed it, put it away and locked the cabinet before sitting down to regard them. Rukia cleared her throat.

"So how do you guys know one another? I didn't think Momo had been here before."

"We were fostered together at one point." Hitsugaya turned his gaze on Momo and his eyes softened. "It's good to see you again."

"What are you doing here?" Momo blurted out.

"I own this place."

"But you're only seventeen!" she said, and then put a hand over her mouth before she could say more. Rukia snickered softly, and stopped when Hitsugaya levelled his gaze on her.

"I'm going to go find Ran; is she in the Hyourinmaru or on the floor?" Rukia queried.

"She'll probably be around the bar, drinking up my profits," Hitsugaya replied, a sour note in his voice. Rukia grinned and let herself out, closing the door behind her.

"I didn't think I'd ever see you again," Momo said, looking at her lap.

Hitsugaya smiled wryly at her. "I never expected to see you again either. How many years has it been? Five?"

"You were twelve years old," she laughed. "And we were _miserable_, but you always protected me." She wrinkled her nose. "What about you? How did you manage to do all of--" she waved a hand, "-- _this_?"

He shrugged. "Fake IDs, gambling, luck. The usual sort of thing, I imagine. I didn't think I'd see you in an escort club. Why are you here?"

"I was supposed to meet someone here."

He raised a brow at this. "Who?"

She swallowed and shook her head. Paused and then sighed. "Sousuke Aizen."

There was the sound of a sharp intake of air from behind the desk. Then, "Why does he want to see you?"

"I don't know. But..." Momo looked at him and smiled. "You look good, Shiro."

"You're the one he adopted all those years ago."

She blinked. "How'd you know?"

"Everyone knew he had adopted someone a couple years ago. No one knew who, but it was probably safer that they didn't." He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his desk. "It also explains why you're Kuchiki's roommate. And why you've her purse and gun."

"Ho--"

He gave her a piercing look. "People don't change that much in five years, Hinamori."

"Will you stop calling me that? I have a first name, you know," she said, irritably but not before leaning over to ruffle his hair. He scowled.

"I've always called you that."

She giggled. "You're also the same, Shiro."

"Go home, Hinamori. Don't come back. Aizen will understand," he said, standing up. "I'll talk to him."

She stood up as well. "No, I can't. I owe him and he said he needed me."

Hitsugaya's mouth twisted into a grimace. "You really think that? The Gotei 13 doesn't need anyone, especially not their Mafia Lords. He adopted you because he had nothing better to do, Hinamori. Don't fool yourself into thinking that it could possibly be something mo--"

She slapped him.

"Don't you _dare_ talk about him that way. He took me out of that home, that place that /you/ ran away from five years ago and gave me everything I have now," she said, grabbing Rukia's purse.

Before the door closed, she heard, "I tried look for you, you know."

She paused, her hand still on the door handle. Looking behind her, she could see Toushirou rubbing his cheek and looking more than slightly ashamed of himself. "You did?"

"Yeah. Couldn't find you." He shrugged and shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants, ruining the line of his suit. "No trail to follow. Thought you were dead or something."

She softened. "Oh, Shir--"

He continued, blithely ignoring her. "If you want, you could always come live with me. I've enough money." He shrugged. "We did five years ago, it wouldn't be weird."

Sighing, she went back into the office, bent over and kissed him on the forehead, brushing cool fingers over the cheek she had slapped. "I'm sorry, but I can't. I...he gave me everything I have now. I can't just leave him."

"You like him."

Momo flinched, but decided not to deny it. Shiro always knew her better than anyone else. "I'm sorry."

He shrugged. "I don't really care about that." Paused. "I'll take you to him."

She smiled brilliantly at him and pulled him into a brief, but fierce embrace. "I'm glad I got to see you again, Shiro. Maybe we can do dinner one day."

"Yeah," he said, reaching into his drawer to take out a well-worn gun. "Sure."

_end chapter five_

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**Notes: **I've been away on vacation.

I've noticed people asking about pairings, and I stand by what I said before: no pairing is set in stone. My preferences tend to lean towards gen more than anything else. Either that, or I go for the threesome ship (Ichigo/Rukia/Renji is mah OT3 4 lyfe!).

**Up Next: **Don Kanonji, Tatsuki, Orihime and Chad. And what's that about the missing Ishida heir?

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	6. Young & Dangerous II

**Summary: **Rookie cop Ichigo learns that some things are most definitely not what they seem, especially when he gets partnered up with Rukia. Meanwhile, Urahara offers Renji a "get out of jail" card when he asks him to infiltrate the mob known as the Gotei 13. At the same time, the Ishida heir goes missing, and it's up to Special Operatives Chad, Orihime and Tatsuki to find him and bring him back.

Written for NaNoWriMo redux, December 2005/January 2006, which took place on lj. In total, it's about 86, 000 words, approximately. I've edited it slightly for typos, but not really much else. The writing isn't my best, but it's my first try at something that's not either humour/parody or cotton candy-esque romance. There are about thirty chapters, give or take, and I'll be posting as I edit, which probably won't be very quick.

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"Very good, Miss Inoue! You have completed the obstacle course in less than three minutes! My commendations, my most excellent student!"

Orihime raised her head, panting but grinning at the same time. "Thank you, Supervisor Kanonji."

"And Sado! You managed to take out more opponents than I thought possible while she ran through the course! So easily! So efficiently!" Don Kanonji patted Chad's back, grinned and threw his head back. "BOHAHAHA, I AM HONOURED FOR SUCH GREAT AND WONDERFUL STUDENTS!"

"And we're honoured to have you as our instructor" Orihime returned, doing a small pirouette, much to Kanonji's delight. "Thanks to you, I've been able to see the fairies in my hairclips," she brought a hand up to touch them, "and discovered the reason why food really runs away!"

"BOHAHAHAHA, YOU ARE A GOOD STUDENT, INOUE!"

Chad and Orihime exchanged somewhat wry looks before standing to attention and saluting their supervisor as he passed out breathmints, signalling the end of their training session. At least it was mints today; a few days ago, it had been slips of paper with the number of a psychic hotline written neatly on them, and the time before that it was a pair of Hawaiian print shirts that Orihime had to get altered to fit her. Orihime popped hers in her mouth before she could forget about it.

"Commander Shihouin says that she wants to see you," Kanonji informed them, waving them off. "Tell your friend Ichigo that I said hi, Sado! I want to have lunch with him, but for some reason, he never picks up his phone when I call. It's very strange."

Chad nodded, but Orihime could decipher a shadow of a smile. They jogged through the training grounds and into the building, Chad ducking his head before it could hit any of the doorframes. Orihime was quite sure that she liked her new partner, and she especially liked how he would sit and listen to her prattle without seeming as if he were indulging her. Sado would probably listen to her hairclips if they talked; he /liked/ to listen. It made her less self-conscious and she knew that she had been performing better lately, partially because of her quiet (but not reticent) partner, even if they had been together for only a couple of weeks.

Don Kanonji also made quite an interesting supervisor with unorthodox training methods, but Chad seemed to adapt to them easily, and after a while, Orihime realized that it wasn't a matter of how /well/ you did on them sometimes, but how you /accepted/ the strange situations that he would throw at them (her favourite memory was that of leaping off a skyscraper with only a parachute while Chad tried to shoot down an opposing and theoretical team. It was definitely a good thing she wasn't afraid of heights).

"You wanted to see us, Sir?" asked Orihime, doing a small twirl and then hanging off the doorframe of Yoruichi's office. Yoruichi motioned them to come in and sit down, shutting the door behind them.

"I want you to examine these tapes and tell me what you think," she said, without preamble, pressing the 'play' button on her remote.

Chad and Orihime were silent for about twenty minutes, watching a tall figure with fair hair and squinty eyes enter the building and then leave moments later with a tallish male stumbling behind, his dark hair and glasses slightly askew.

"The tape skips at one point," Orihime pointed out after a second viewing. "At about two minutes in, right before that tall, blond guy enters. Has the tape been tampered with?"

"Possibly," Yoruichi said, non-committally. "Continue."

"The person following the first guy obviously was doing so against his will," continued Orihime, slanting a glance at Chad, who nodded his agreement.

"Handcuffs. Saw them," said Chad. Paused to think for a moment. "Too obvious."

"Explain."

"Blip right before tall man enters. Leaves building with high security--" (he paused the tape to point at the visible sign declaring, 'Ishida Towers'), "--and someone about our age trailing after him unwillingly. He's not the kidnapper."

"Also," jumped in Orihime, taking the remote to rewind to just before the blip, "there's a strange shadow there. Did you see it? It disappears right after the blip. I bet the other tapes are like that as well at around the same point."

Yoruichi gave them a faint smile. "Impressive. I guess I was right to give you to Kanonji. You're both correct." She handed them both a pair of identical folders, and they began to rifle through them. "These are profiles of the kidnapper we saw on camera, the young male he had taken with him, and the police's investigative reports. Can you tell me what really happened?"

"It says that a window in the penthouse was unlatched," Orihime pointed out, unwontedly serious for once. "There were signs of struggle, and broken glass. Those could have been easily manufactured."

"They were," Chad interrupted, his voice rumbling. The women looked at him, and he looked abashed. "Young Ishida was a trained weapons expert. He probably would've been throwing things at his assailants and the room would have been a lot more haphazard."

"You're both correct," Yoruichi said, smiling as she leaned against her desk. "An unidentified group kidnapped Uryuu Ishida two weeks ago and tried to pin the blame on the Gotei 13. However, I don't think that Gin Ichimaru," and she gestured towards a blurry photo of the blond, "would stoop so low as to do a measley kidnapping. He has his own henchmen do that kind of thing. You both pass."

They blinked. It was a test?

"Here are your badges, all the information you need," she handed them new folders, much thicker. "Review these tonight. You'll meet with your new partner tomorrow at zero six hundred hours, and will have an hour to prepare accordingly. Your specs and mission details are in those folders, so don't lose them." Her eyes went through them. Orihime smiled, Chad stared back. She sighed. "Dismissed."

* * *

Young Ishida was currently really hating his life. His captor would return once a day, loosen his bonds enough so that he could go to the washroom (the only time he was ever allowed), clean up for a bit, and then he was made to sit back in that dratted chair and his bonds redone. The little girl Yachiru would feed him his daily shake, and he had learned to choke it down; he couldn't afford to lose strength. Not now. 

He could feel the ropes digging into his ribs, the way his ankles chafed. He was growing thinner by the day, and no matter how tight his captor tied them, he could feel them giving way more and more each day. It was really the only salvation or hope he had of leaving this damp, miserable place, he thought grimly, testing his bonds after Kenpachi and Yachiru had left. He wriggled his hands and feet and squirmed. There was more movement today than there had ever been, a good sign by his standards. He tested his wrists, grimaced and began to concentrate on his feet, wriggling and twisting his ankles in ways that were nigh agonizing. He managed to slip his filthy shoes off first, but his socks wouldn't come off, as much as he tried. He began to pant, but sucked in a long breath when his right foot finally slipped out of its bonds, with the left following soon after. His hands however, were still bound to his chair, but he at least could walk.

He judged the distance from his spot to the window, and then to the washroom and decided that the window was the better bet. Moving his ankles and wiggling his feet for a few minutes to increase the blood flow, he stood cautiously and began to inch across the floor.

It took him hours to cover less than thirty feet of space. He was sweating, his stomach hurt and he had clenched his hands into fists so that his now-long nails dug into his palms. His back hurt from bending over in such a strange position, and his ankles throbbed. Finally, he reached his goal. He pressed his forehead against the window, grinning slightly when he realized that it was made of thin glass. He brought his head back, closed his eyes and took a long, deep breath before bringing his head down sharply, breaking the window into small shards.

He regained consciousness soon and was able to pick up one of the larger, jagged shards on the floor to cut his bonds loose. Dried blood matted his bangs and obscured his vision, and his glasses were cracked and shattered, but he was /so close/. He began to saw at his bindings with single-minded intensity until finally, his wrists came free and could he actually stand from the chair for the first time in two weeks.

Shaking his hands and trying his best to rub life back into them, he looked at his shoes, grimaced and put them back on. He paused for a moment, went into the washroom to relieve himself, and then picked up a few jagged pieces of glass. If anything, they would serve as temporary weapons, he reasoned, washing his cut and bloody hands as thoroughly as he could and wrapping them with toilet paper.

He looked outside the now-broken window. Mid-morning, he guessed. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open, and left.

* * *

The early morning air bit through her clothing and made Tatsuki scowl. Winter in Hong Kong wasn't as cold as some people claimed it could be, but it was chilly enough. She checked her watch. Five minutes late. Five minutes she could have spent sleeping. 

Someone was going to _pay_.

Sighing, she drained the last of her coffee, crumpled the cup and threw it backwards over her shoulder where the trash should have been. When she heard a soft, "Ow," she grimaced and turned around.

"Where have you be--" Her eyes popped wide open. "'hime?"

"Tatsuki?" Orihime grinned and threw her arms around her best friend, squeezing her as tightly as she could. "What are you doing here? Did the Secret Evil Paper Cup Association decide to attack you too?"

"No, silly," Tatsuki said, disengaging herself so she could pick up her trash and throw it away properly. "I threw that."

"Oh." Orihime paused. "Why are you here?"

"Waiting for my new partners," Tatsuki grumbled. "They're seven minutes late."

Orihime blinked. "How strange. Sado and I are supposed to get a new partner today too. And meet them here." Orihime beamed at her. "Isn't it strange the way things work out? What are your partners' names?"

Tatsuki began coughing violently, having swallowed air the wrong way. "I think I just found one of them," she said when she could breathe, waving off Orihime's attempts at patting her back.

"Really? Who?"

Tatsuki smiled wryly at her. "You, silly." A dark shadow blocked the sun behind her for a moment, and Tatsuki whirled around, her hand going for the automatic at her side before relaxing. "You're the other partner?" she asked.

Chad nodded and held up a large plastic bag full of breakfast pastries and breads. In his other hand, he had holder of steaming cups. "Sorry I'm late."

Tatsuki shrugged. "It's fine. Who would've thought that the three of us would've been partnered together, eh?" She gestured to her car, which was parked a few feet away. "Let's go sit and talk for a bit."

They spent a good half-hour reviewing their case in the car, sipping the coffee and hot milk tea and munching on the pastries Chad had thoughtfully purchased for them all. It seemed like a fairly simple rescue mission; a small, deserted building in Kowloon, set to be destroyed in the next week, had suspicious activity going on the last couple of weeks. A tall man with spikey hair and a young child went in on a daily basis, armed with drinks and food, and left about an hour or so later empty handed.

They were supposed to scope out the building and if they confirmed that the supposed person residing in the building was Uryuu Ishida, they would reconvene and then rescue him. If not, they were to discover the motives of Kenpachi, the freelance assassin, discover who had hired him, and if they could not manage this much, try to take him down. Their main objective was to rescue the theoretical captive, but if there was none, then their secondary objective became their main.

It was really simple. Or it was supposed to be. If it was the first scenario, Chad and Tatsuki would break him out with Orihime in the getaway vehicle. If it was the second (Tatsuki grimaced and ran a hand through her short hair; she really hoped it wouldn't be the second), Orihime would spend a night placing small detonators around the building, trying her best to weaken the structure and bring it down without causing too much damage to the areas and people around it. Chad would be in the building next door on the roof with his sniper (he grunted at this) and Tatsuki would make sure the area was clear of any innocent pedestrians or bystanders by pulling rank (and her badge) at civilians and ushering them out of the way.

It was foolproof. Or at least, it seemed foolproof, but in Tatsuki's experience/nothing/ was ever foolproof. Shit always went wrong.

"If that's all, we'll reconvene at," she checked her watch, "nine at the prearranged rendezvous point. Make sure you guys have your things," she warned. "It's going to be a long day."

Her new partners nodded. Before they could slip out of the car, Orihime paused. "Tatsuki, why did they send you?" she asked, curiously. "I didn't think you were a part of Special Ops." Tatsuki shrugged.

"Dunno. Probably figured that I knew you guys from before and could work with you, I suppose."

Orihime smiled and leaned over to give her another hug. "I'm glad you're here."

"Yeah, so am I," she muttered. Then paused. "Wait a minute, when did you become an explosives specialist? You never mentioned any of that stuff to me before."

Chad grunted, and Tatsuki slid a sideways glance at him. He was hunched over in her small sedan, looking uncomfortable and resigned.

"A while ago." Orihime shrugged and chirped, "Don't worry, I know what I'm doing!"

"I was afraid of that," muttered Tatsuki under her breath, not loud enough to be heard. Orihime smiled, gave her another quick hug and slid out of the car.

"It's okay," Chad said before he opened the door. Tatsuki raised a brow.

"How long have you guys been partners?" she asked, curiously.

"Err, two weeks?"

She paused to consider this. "Well, you're not dead yet, so I guess you're right. I'll see you guys in a couple of hours," she said, shooing him out. He nodded, and gave her the last pastry in the bag and took the trash with him as he left her car.

She killed a few hours by driving around the neighbourhood, trying to get a feel for the place. She didn't know the Kowloon side as well as she should. At about a quarter to nine, she found a parking spot, paid for it and went into the apartment across the abandoned building, up the stairs and jiggling a bunch of keys, found the right door and unlocked it. Stake-outs were usually really boring, and she had a feeling that this one would be no different. A few minutes later, she heard more footsteps, and a juggling of bags.

"I thought I'd get us some food for an early lunch," Orihime said with an apologetic smile. Tatsuki nodded and stretched, picking up her binoculars and adjusting them. Chad arrived not long after, and they spent a quiet day trading off watches. Orihime disappeared at one moment to get them some more food and drinks, and Tatsuki swore under her breath a few minutes later.

"What the hell is she doing?" she asked. Chad rumbled beside her and picked up the second pair of binoculars, focusing his on Tatsuki's general area.

Orihime was talking to a little girl with pink hair. She looked like she was crying and Orihime patted her on the head before handing her a drink (milk tea with tapioca) and taking her by the hand. The little girl sniffled for a bit, waited and drank her bubble tea before beaming brightly at her saviour, pulling on Orihime's arm so that the Special Ops officer bent down low enough to receive a kiss. Then, without a word, she disappeared into the deserted building, clutching her new prize. Orihime swung her bags, looked down at her tray of drinks and went back up the street, presumably to get another bubble tea.

"Holy shit, do not tell me she was just consorting with the enemy," Tatsuki said, groping for her cell phone. Chad made a noise beside her, and she looked at him. He shrugged.

"Just a kid. How was she supposed to know?"

Tatsuki sighed and put her phone down. "Yeah, you're right. Anyway, this is 'hime. She's nice to everyone, even if you're a serial killer. She'd probably give Kenpachi the pork bun and tell him not to eat it too quickly after telling the bun not to run away from the scary looking man wit--oh shit, speak of the devil."

Kenpachi had shown up in the vicinity of her binoculars, looking highly irritated. It seemed as if he were searching for something, and when he could not find it, scowled, and stomped into the deserted building. Seconds after the front door had slammed, Orihime waltzed by, swinging her back and carrying a newly full tray of drinks. Tatsuki gave a small sigh of relief, and she heard Chad echo her. She glanced at him, and was a little surprised to see that he had his sniper rifle out. She hadn't even heard him get it. He gave her a shrug, and put it down on the floor beside them, flicking the safety back on.

Kenpachi and the little girl left fifteen minutes later just as Orihime was unloading drinks and Tatsuki in the middle of giving her a vehement lecture. Chad tapped her on the shoulder just as Tatsuki was beginning to work herself up into a truly spectacular fit and passed her his binoculars. Tatsuki took them, focused and her eyes nearly popped open. Kenpachi looked scary. Mad. Insane, even. She shivered and hoped beyond all hope that the prisoner was indeed still there; she did not look forward to facing the freelance assassin.

Six hours and several pops later, the three of them exchanged glances, nodded, and ghosted out of the apartment. Tatsuki smoothed her black catsuit and saw Orihime doing the same from the corner of her eye. Twirling her semi-automatic, they crept silently through the building, being careful to watch for any signs. They checked every floor, every room and saw nothing. Nerves taut as wires, they went up to the eighth floor.

The door to the second last room was open. Cautious, Tatsuki toed it open and motioned Orihime to watch her. It was empty, full of broken glass, a toppled chair and flickering lights. Biting her lip, she scanned the apartment, and when it was empty, she said, "I think we found where our theoretical captive was being kept."

Orihime strode into the room, ignoring the brown patches of dried blood and checked the broken window. She touched the bloodstains on the glass lightly, looked at the shards and swept her eyes across the shattered and broken glass on the floor, to the cut ropes and the recently used bathroom.

"Well," Tatsuki said in a resigned tone as she shoved her gun back into its holster, "shit."

_end chapter six_

_

* * *

_**Notes: **To the person that asked, I actually don't like either Nicholas Tse or Edison Chen. I do, however (or I did) watch a lot of HK movies, and a lot of the late-90's and early 00's starred either one of the actors. _  
_

**Up next: **Tweaking canon slightly so that Tatsuki actually gets to kick some ass, and Yachiru still stays unbearably cute.


	7. Young & Dangerous III

**Summary: **Rookie cop Ichigo learns that some things are most definitely not what they seem, especially when he gets partnered up with Rukia. Meanwhile, Urahara offers Renji a "get out of jail" card when he asks him to infiltrate the mob known as the Gotei 13. At the same time, the Ishida heir goes missing, and it's up to Special Operatives Chad, Orihime and Tatsuki to find him and bring him back.

Written for NaNoWriMo redux, December 2005/January 2006, which took place on lj. In total, it's about 86, 000 words, approximately. I've edited it slightly for typos, but not really much else. The writing isn't my best, but it's my first try at something that's not either humour/parody or cotton candy-esque romance. There are about thirty chapters, give or take, and I'll be posting as I edit, which probably won't be very quick.

---------------------- 

Patting his belly, Urahara gave a long sigh. Yoruichi raised a brow at him, sipping at her coffee. Expensive seafood by Hong Kong's harbour, the skyline arcing gracefully over the restaurant, this was a life she could do well without. From where she sat, she could see the tall, blocky, and glowing lights of the IFC One and Two and the glittering lights of the cross-bridge. For once, Hong Kong wasn't covered in fog, but in a sort of strange, twinkling lull. A city that never slept, but that suited them both just fine.

"That was a lovely dinner, my dear," Urahara said.

She shrugged. "I owed you," she said over the rim of her cup.

"Ah yes, young Chad. How is he?"

She checked her watch. "Fine, I assume."

"You assume?" It was his turn to raise a brow.

She did not reply. The look she gave him was faintly amused, but shuttered, and he tilted his head, blond hair falling into his eyes. He pushed it back and quirked an eyebrow when he realized that his dinner mate was checking out her pager, and not him.

"Excuse me," she said. "I have to make a phone call. I'll be just a moment."

"Take your time," he replied. She grabbed her cell phone and jacket, moving through servers and crowded tables with a sort of negligent grace that he could only admire. Shaking his head, he fished in his pocket for his wallet, snorted when he realized that had disappeared, and waited.

When she did not reappear after twenty minutes, he sighed and raised his hand, murmuring to the server for a moment before meeting with the manager. A few moments of persuasive talking and string pulling later, and Urahara found himself in a red taxi, muttering under his breath. At least she had to grace to leave him a few bills, he thought as he forked them over to the driver, shutting the door and into his apartment complex, nodding at the security guard.

"What took you so long?" she asked when he opened his door. She was still in her dress (long, slim, as red as her painted lips and with a slit that rode almost as high as the dip of the 'v' rode low on her chest) and her long legs were propped on his kitchen table. She was finishing the last of his ice cream (lychee) and he made a small noise of protest.

"You took my credit cards and left me with the bill!" he accused. "My dear lady disdain, what did I ever do to warrant such treatment?"

She snorted and waved a hand at him. "Get some ice cream and come join me," she said.

"You just ate the last of it."

She scraped the bottom of the bucket, spooned the last of the dessert into her mouth. "Check again."

He opened his freezer and gave a crow of delight. "Durian! My favourite! My dear Yoruichi, how did you know?"

She stuck the spoon in her mouth and regarded him for a long moment. He shook his head. "Of course you would know. You're forgiven for tonight's cruel trick if you agree to pay for our next meal and not leave me to languish in a seafood restaurant with only my wits and charm about me."

"They seemed to have served you in good purpose," she pointed out mildly. For an answer, he opened the bucket and dug a spoon in, closing his eyes as the rich, overwhelming taste of durian and cream filled his tastebuds.

"Uryuu escaped," Yoruichi said when he was on his third spoonful. He choked and she patted him on the back. The disappearance of the Ishida heir had made it to the headlines and gossip tabloids, much as they tried to keep it from the public.

"What? How!"

"Not sure. Possibly broke a window and cut himself free. I'll have a report in a few days." She waved a hand at him and he mechanically dug his spoon back into the bucket. "In a few hours, I'll find out who hired Kenpachi."

"How many men did you send in?"

"Three."

The spoon fell from his grasp with a loud noise. "My dear, you cannot be serious."

She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Who?" She did not reply and when he realized who it was, he let out a long, deep, self-suffering sigh. "I am never giving you another one of my men ever again, never mind two," he muttered.

She examined her nails and brought her long legs down. "Enjoy your dessert," she said, sauntering into his bedroom. "I'm going to get some shut-eye."

"Wait, where am _I_ going to sleep?" he pouted. Then brightened. "Unless you're willing to share my bed with me? I mean, it does get cold and awfully lonely at nigh--"

She slammed his bedroom door with a finality that even he could decipher. He sighed and looked at his sofa. "I guess it's just you and me," he said to it before picking up his spoon.

--------------------

"How are we sure that he's going to come back tonight?" Tatsuki asked after a long silence. Orihime looked up from where she was fiddling with something that Tatsuki wasn't quite sure she wanted to know what it was.

"No, but it's okay. I planted a tracker on his motorcycle," she said, quite calmly and with a measure of her usual cheer. Tatsuki choked on her coffee and Chad patted her back.

"What if he found it?" Tatsuki demanded.

"It's okay, I put more than one on it! With any luck, he won't have noticed any of them, or the ones I put on Yachiru." Orihime frowned as she brushed a stray tendril of hair out of her face and reached for her small kit of tools for a small screwdriver. "I think this bomb is wired wrong."

"'hime!" exclaimed Tatsuki, exasperated.

Orihime looked up at her best friend, eyes wide and mouth open. "Oh, don't worry about it," she said, waving a hand. "Yachiru said that she'd come visit me or something. I asked her to." She beamed at her partners, whose jaws were just a little slack. "She likes bubble tea," she offered by way of explanation. "And my hair clips. I quite like them myself. What do you think?"

"They're very nice," Tatsuki said, sipping her coffee. "Are you sure they're coming today?"

Orihime blinked. "Yes. They'll be here soon in about thirty minutes. The tracker says so." She pointed at the machine she had been fiddling with an hour or so before that neither Tatsuki nor Chad had taken any notice of. There was an ever widening circle of green and a dot that was moving steadily towards the centre. "Didn't I tell you?"

Tatsuki growled under her breath and Chad picked up his sniper rifle, hefting it onto his shoulder and left, stopping only briefly to pat Tatsuki's shoulders and Orihime's bent head. "Good luck," he said, and slipped out the door. Tatsuki checked her semi-automatics, patted her pockets to make sure she had extra ammunition and made an irritated sound at the back of her throat. "Where are we supposed to confront them?"

"In the building across the street," Orihime said. "I said I'd meet them there for a midnight picnic of sorts. Yachiru said it was a nice idea." Orihime paused for a second, a screwdriver caught between her teeth. "Does this mean I have to buy food for tonight?"

"Have you wired the building yet?" Tatsuki asked, adeptly avoiding the question and trying her best not to smack her head against the wall. Orihime nodded and bent her attention back to her current project.

"Yup. This is just the trigger," she replied, holding up a newly reassembled thingamajiggy. "At least, I think it is. It could also be a bomb."

"'hime!" groaned Tatsuki. She checked her watch and swore, checking her semis one more time. She really didn't want to do this, and not in front of her best friend and a little girl.

"It'll be fine," Orihime reassured her calmly. "You'll see."

-----------------

"I have a bad feeling about this," Yachiru whispered loudly, clinging to her guardian's back with an ease that suggested long familiarity. Kenpachi grunted as he rounded the last set of stairs.

"I wanna know what the hell that girl was thinking, putting trackers on my bike and on you," he scowled, pushing the door to the abandoned apartments easily and searching through them. "Don't worry, nothing's gonna happen."

"I wouldn't count on that," a voice said behind them. There was the familiar click of a safety being taken off. Kenpachi paused while Yachiru pouted and slid off his back.

"Sneaking up on people isn't nice," she chided, looking up at the lady with short, dark hair and a semi-automatic in her hand. She was in a black catsuit, and looked extremely competent. "Especially when you haven't introduced yourself."

"Yachiru," Orihime called from the washroom door, coming out and looking a little apologetic. "Hi," she said sheepishly, waving at her.

"Did you set us up?" Yachiru accused, her eyes watering. Tatsuki made a sharp jerking motion with her head at Orihime, who sighed before nodding her head, her lips thinning with determination.

"Yes, I'm sorry." She came closer to the little girl and bent down, pressing her hands to her knees so that they were almost the same height. "I didn't want to. I really like you, you know."

"I liked you," scowled Yachiru, who was clinging to Kenpachi's solid, unmoving leg. "I won't leave Ken."

"I was afraid you'd say that," replied Orihime apologetically. She looked at Kenpachi, who was observing this with a small smirk. "Sir, I'm afraid your young charge doesn't want to leave, even though it's going to be very dangerous in a few minutes."

Kenpachi shrugged. "Let her stay if she wants."

"But we've guns! And bombs!" exclaimed Orihime. "Come on Yachiru, aren't you scared?"

The little girl shook her head. "Ken will protect me," she declared. "He always does." She stuck her tongue out at the two ladies for good measure, and Orihime gave Tatsuki a helpless look, who looked like she was going to either kill someone or herself.

"Shit, I guess we're going to have to do this the hard way," muttered Tatsuki, scanning the room and looked out the broken window. She could just barely pinpoint Chad's large, still form, lying unnaturally still on the roof with his rifle in hand. "Well, at least we tried," she said sideways to Orihime.

"Yes," Kenpachi rumbled, turning around so both Orihime and Tatsuki could see the gleam in his eyes. "You can say that." And he struck out with a large arm, surprising both Special Ops agents and effectively smashing Orihime into a wall and Tatsuki onto the floor, her semi skittering across the apartment. Yachiru ran after it and kicked it even further, taking great delight in helping her Ken, before moving to Orihime's side to check the gash on the side of her head. Orihime was breathing, but unmoving.

"Fuck," Tatsuki swore, wiping her bloody mouth. "That really hurt."

"Good." Kenpachi took out a large glock just as Tatsuki pulled her second semi-automatic and they both pointed their guns at one another at the same time. Tatsuki was at a distinct disadvantage, already injured and in a precarious position on the floor, but she would also bet that she could move faster than this demon.

"It seems as if we're at a standoff," she said. Her voice was neutral.

Kenpachi smirked, and that was the only warning Tatsuki would get before she threw herself out of the way, the bullets missing her by a few hairs. She rolled and shot a few back without looking, scrambling across the floor for her second semi. She heard the telltale signs of a gun being reloaded at amazing speeds, and she tumbled to the ground, ducking her head before the next shot could take her brains out.

Kenpachi was good. Very good. And she made sure not to get too close to Orihime, where Yachiru was cooing over her. She was worried about her unconscious friend, but could do nothing except take down the monster in front of her. She reached her second semi and rolled to her feet, pointing both revolvers at her captive.

Stalemate. Again. Tatsuki knew it wouldn't last. "Who sent you?" she panted. "Why did you kidnap Ishida?"

"Can't say," shrugged Kenpachi. "Sorry."

"In that case..." she did the unexpect and swiped a leg at his, making him tumble to the ground and within seconds she had him at her mercy, gun kicked out of the way and her semis pointed at his head. "All I want is the name," she said wearily. "We'll let you go afterwards."

"You seem to forget something," Kenpachi told her, an eerie light in his eyes. "I'm not the only enemy to have to fight." Tatsuki just barely managed to process those words before Yachiru leapt onto her back, taking her wrist in a surprisingly strong grip for one so young and biting down onto her hand hard. Yelping at the suddenly attack, she tried to shake Yachiru off and lost her grip on her semi. She felt a strong blow across her head and fell to the ground, with Yachiru leaping off her back lightly. She heard the sound of a semi being cocked and she did not bother to open her eyes.

There was a hiss and then the sound of something dropping. Cracking an eye, she saw her semi within reach and snatched it up. Chad had impeccable timing, she thought, trying to ignore the way the room swam and focus. Yachiru was baring her teeth at her.

"You think that'll keep Ken down? You fight dirty!" the little girl accused.

"Yeah, well, sometimes, you have to use every advantage you've got," Tatsuki said wearily, stumbling to her feet and collapsing again. Shit. She definitely had a concussion.

Another shot, and Kenpachi's other arm went down. Still, he climbed to his feet, dripping blood. "I don't need my hands to kill you," he said calmly, placing his foot on Tatsuki's throat and pressing _hard_. More shots zinged, but Kenpachi was so inhuman, so all encompassing, that he seemed able to ignore the blood and pain and pressed even _harder_. Tatsuki closed her eyes.

Suddenly, the weight lifted and she could breathe. Clutching at her chest, she found herself supported by Orihime, who was glaring at her assailant, the detonator in her hand. "I'll trigger this if you hurt Tatsuki anymore," she declared.

"She tried to kill me," spat Kenpachi, but Orihime hugged her friend closer to her. "Go ahead, you think I care? If you do, you'll both die."

"Look how scared Yachiru is," Orihime said, so calmly that Tatsuki couldn't believe it was her best friend speaking. Then, her tone softening, she said, "I'm sorry, Yachiru. I wish things didn't turn out this way. I really wanted to buy you more bubble tea."

Yachiru sniffled. "I liked you."

"I still like you." Tatsuki felt her weight being shifted as Orihime detached something. "Here, take these. My brother gave them to me. I want you to have them."

"Even though I tried to get your friend killed?" asked Yachiru, her voice closer as she accepted the gift.

Orihime gave her a wry smile. "She was trying to kill your friend, I can't blame you."

Yachiru nodded, and then looked at her guardian. "Let's go, Ken."

Kenpachi was silent, and then slowly retrieved his weapons, shoving them into the pockets of his dark trench coat. Before the door could close, he said over his shoulder, "It was Sousuke Aizen of the Gotei 13."

Tatsuki sighed and leaned against Orihime's comforting warmth once they were gone. "Thanks," she whispered.

"Can you walk?" Orihime asked, and Tatsuki nodded, stopped and took a deep breath. Strong arms came and buoyed her gently and she passed into sweet, merciful darkness.

_end chapter seven_

_-------------------_

**Notes:** I'm the last person to admit to being imperfect (heh), but even I can see that I half-assed this chapter pretty thoroughly. My only defense is that I wrote it fairly quickly to keep in the spirit of NaNoWriMo. Do me a favour and pretend it makes sense.

OT3 - One True Threesome. OTP - One True Pairing.

**Up next: (Infernal Affairs) **Momo returns. Gin and Ran also have an interlude (and the rating goes up), and Hitsugaya and Rukia learn that some things never change.


	8. Infernal Affairs III

**Summary: **Rookie cop Ichigo learns that some things are most definitely not what they seem, especially when he gets partnered up with Rukia. Meanwhile, Urahara offers Renji a "get out of jail" card when he asks him to infiltrate the mob known as the Gotei 13. At the same time, the Ishida heir goes missing, and it's up to Special Operatives Chad, Orihime and Tatsuki to find him and bring him back.

Written for NaNoWriMo redux, December 2005/January 2006, which took place on lj. In total, it's about 86, 000 words, approximately. I've edited it slightly for typos, but not really much else. The writing isn't my best, but it's my first try at something that's not either humour/parody or cotton candy-esque romance. There are about thirty chapters, give or take, and I'll be posting as I edit, which probably won't be very quick.

**Quick note: **Things get a bit heated now. Rating goes up for a reason.

* * *

It was two in the morning when Momo came home, three days later, dragging her weary body in and looking so exhausted and soul-sick that Rukia put aside her half-finished work. Later, curled in pyjamas and nursing a mug of jasmine tea, Momo curled up on the sofa under a quilt, sipping slowly while Rukia muttered under her breath about work and tried to finish her overdue report. 

"You know," Rukia said, as she was jotting down another few sentences (Gave out tickets on Thursday. Exceeded previous day's quota. Partner was v. uncooperative and stubborn. Sulks alot.), "Hitsugaya called the other night. He was looking for you."

Momo did not move, but sipped her tea. "Oh, that's nice. I'll return his call tomorrow," she said, her shoulders relaxing a little.

"Said something about a dinner." Rukia looked up from her papers long enough to quirk an eyebrow at her roommate. "Is there anything I ought to know about you two?"

Momo shook her head, flushing a bit at the implication. "Oh, no! Shiro and I were in the same foster home for a few months, and we grew close. I haven't seen him in five years and thought it'd be nice to catch up." She forced a giggle. "He's like a little brother to me."

"Mm-hmm," Rukia replied, non-committally. "So how was it?"

Momo's eyes went blank. "Fine. Exhausting." Hesitated. "How did you ever manage to do it?"

Rukia looked up from her seat on the floor, craning her neck to relieve it of most of the aches it had managed to procure from being bent over paperwork on the coffee table for most of the night. "I never did. At least, not in the way you mean it," she said, so calmly that Momo could hear the underlying tone of hurt and bitterness in her tone, even in her semi-shocked state.

"Then how--"

"I had a bodyguard, remember?" Rukia reminded her, shuffling her papers and checking them once over. "Renji might be an idiot, but he takes his duties seriously."

Momo put her mug down onto the coffee table with a gentle chink, buried her face in her hands and took a long, deep, shuddering breath. "I wish--"

"It's too late," Rukia told her, sounding eerily detached. "Once you've killed, you can't go back. This is what it's like to be a part of the Gotei 13."

"How would you know?" snapped Momo. "You never had to do it. You never held that gun and shot it with the--" she shuddered and could not finish the sentence

Rukia paused and shook her head. "I've killed someone once." She refilled Momo's mug and gazed at her sympathetically. "You don't have to follow him, you know. He'll understand."

"I want to, though," whispered Momo, and Rukia ran her hands through her hair, fisting them for a brief moment to pull at her strands and then dropping them to her sides. Momo looked away, unwilling and unable to decipher the look in Rukia's eyes. Regret, maybe. Compassion. Sorrow.

"Come on," said Rukia quietly, handing her the mug. "Drink this and go to sleep. It'll look better in the morning. You look like you haven't slept in days."

"I haven't," Momo replied, but obeyed, letting the sour-acrid taste of tea slide down her throat and lead her into oblivion.

* * *

"Drinking alone?" 

Rangiku didn't bother to look over her shoulder, merely gestured to the barstool next to her and reached over to rummage for another shotglass without looking. Filling it with vodka, she raised her glass to Gin's before tilting her head back. Gin followed suit, reached for the bottle and slid it just out of her reach.

"No more for you," he said genially, filling his own glass and finishing the shot.

"Hypocrite," she said, and then slumped on the bar, her head pounding. It had been a long day.

"Why aren't you home?" he asked, placing a warm, solid hand on her back.

"Booze is better here," she mumbled.

"It's not healthy to drink alone."

She made a face at him and reached for the vodka. He slid it even further out of her grasp and she rolled her eyes. "Give me the bottle, Gin."

"You're drunk."

She grinned briefly. "Kinda. Not enough."

"You shouldn't be drinking on the job."

"Who said I was?"

"My mistake." He slipped off his stool and wrapped an arm around her waist, trying to pull her off her seat. She resisted, and he ended up peering up at her, watching her lashes flutter with annoyance.

"What?" she snapped.

"Nothing." He wrapped his other arm around her even more snugly and rested his head against her side, blond hairs against the swell of her breast. She hesitated and then let her arm drift down resting against his back for a brief second before tipping his chin up to look at her. He was neither grinning nor smirking, and with a resigned sigh, she disentangled herself from his embrace and slid off her seat, her hands drifting into the shadows of his trench coat. He smirked and leaned forward a bit to capture her lips with his when he heard the safety of his gun disengage.

"You're really easy to manipulate," she said to him, crossing her arms demurely below her chest, his revolver resting in her hands.

"We seem to be doing this a lot," he said, moving forward and she raised a brow and brought the gun up. Her arm was steady and he was barely six feet from her now. Inebriated or not, there was no way she could miss.

"Nice toy," she remarked briefly, smiling fondly at his glock. "How's the kick?"

"A bit of a bitch, but great aim," he replied, leaning against the bar to watch her. "Are you going to shoot me?"

She raised a brow. "You make it tempting."

His lips curved into a smile. "What did I do this time?"

"Do I really need an excuse to kill you?"

"Touché." He pushed himself from the bar, and stepped towards her. She narrowed her eyes and readjusted her aim so that instead of aiming for his head, she was now aiming for his chest. Grabbing her arm, he tugged her forward with a sudden motion so that his gun was on his chest, her arm ramrod straight. "Do it," he said. "Kill me."

"Don't think I won't," she warned.

"I know you better than that," he replied, and before she could react, reached out and caught her other wrist, tugging her forward so that she fell against him, tilted her head up and kissed her.

She fought him, tooth for tooth and tongue for tongue. His hand had moved up so that it was caught in her blonde locks, and he deepened the kiss. It was a savage war of wills and he fought back a smirk with her arms slipped around his neck, but she caught it anyway and broke the kiss.

"I'm still mad at you," she warned.

"Of course you are," he said, and nudged her closer so that he could feel her hips against his. "Still want to kill me?"

"Shut up," she snarled, and brought his head back down to hers.

He heard his gun drop to the floor soon after, and he let his hands trail down the length of her back to her skirt, unzipping it with practiced ease even as her nails were busily scraping at the buttons of his shirt and pushing his jacket to the floor.

"Holy shit," she hissed at one point when he slipped his hands into the waistband of her now loose skirt.

"Mm," he replied, sucking at her neck, flicking his tongue over her rapid pulse and enjoying the way it sped up under his ministrations. "That feels good, doesn't it?"

"Asshole," she said, and returned the favour.

By the time either one of them could think to move from the lounge sofa they were draped on, it was almost seven in the morning. She was covered in scratches and bite marks, and he had fared no better. He watched her dress from the corner of his eye, enjoying the way she moved as her skirt slithered up her legs and as she winced when she tried to walk. Picking up his gun, he twirled it, thought and smiled.

Just before they left the Division 10, he leaned down, kissed her softly, and pressed it in her hands. "Here," he said, and smirked. "A reminder."

She rolled her eyes and would have shoved it back into his hands, if he did not lean down to whisper, "I insist," in her ear, kissing the shell of it delicately. She paused, and checked the safety before putting it in her purse. He drew back. "Are you still mad at me?"

"Yes," she replied, but it was half-hearted.

"I'll drive you home."

She shook her head. "I'll catch a taxi. I'm out of your way."

"Very well then." Pressing his lips to her for a last kiss, he left.

* * *

Toushirou Hitsugaya did not raise an eyebrow as the taxi driver pulled into the drop-off and pick-up point at Rosecourt. Truth be told, he was more surprised by how low-key Kuchiki and Hinamori were playing it; with their adopters' wealth and connections, they could've had penthouses in Parkview or in Repulse Bay. A middling apartment in Rosecourt was tame by comparison. 

"Oh good, you're here already," Kuchiki said, opening the door at his first knock. She was hastily shoving her feet in her shoes, already in her uniform with her keys dangling from her hand. "She's sleeping right now. Not really feeling well, thanks for doing this, really appreciate it. I'm late for work, so call my cell phone if you need me," she paused long enough to tap her fist lightly on his scalp, and he scowled at the familiarity. "I'll come back as soon as possible with some congee for her, be good now!"

"Kuchiki, where are you going?"

She looked at him as if he were daft. "To work, of course. I said that already, didn't I? Anyway, sorry about the late notice, but Brother's got Renji doing something for him, and you're the only other person I knew that wouldn't scare her right now," she made a vague gesture to the inside of the apartment. "Maid's supposed to come tomorrow, so feel free to make a mess." She pushed past him and ran for the elevator, waving behind her. "I really appreciate this," she called over her shoulder.

Hitsugaya scowled, ran his hand through his short locks and entered the apartment, taking off his shoes and shutting the door behind him. It was silent. Hesitating for a moment, he knocked on the closed door, and toed it open gently; Hinamori was sleeping. There was a mug beside her bed, and he reached for it. He paused for a moment to examine the sediment at the bottom of the mug, and made a face before leaving the room, shutting the door quietly behind him and dumping the mug into the sink of dirty dishes. Eyeing the kitchen with disgust, he sighed and took off his jacket before rolling up his sleeves. It wasn't like he had anything better to do, he reasoned.

He had just finished wiping the coffee table, when Hinamori padded out of her room, yawning widely. When she saw him, she flushed and he raised a brow at her. "Sleep well?" he asked, mildly.

"Yeah." Paused. "Why are you here, Shiro? I thought you had work."

"Kuchiki called. Said you weren't feeling well and asked me to come for a couple of hours." He threw the paper towel into the waste and went to get his cell phone. "I'll get Ran to come."

"Oh no, it's fine," Momo said, holding out a hand. "I'm not really ill, just a little tired, I suppose."

He had to refrain from snorting. Of course she was. "I'm not surprised," he said neutrally.

"Don't be mad at Rukia because she drugged my tea," Hinamori told him, yawning again. "She only has the best intentions."

"I wasn't angry at her," he said. "I'm a little startled that you'd drink what she gave you, knowing it was tampered with."

"Probably wanted to make sure I slept," she muttered, rubbing her eyes. She looked ridiculously young in her pajamas, still half-asleep. "I'm fine. You can go home now."

He eyed her for a moment and sat down on the sofa, sending Matsumoto a text message before flipping the phone shut. "All right," he said. He picked up a magazine (a tabloid) and began flipping through it. "I'll wait for you to get ready. We can have a late lunch."

"What time is it?" Hinamori asked, sounding startled. She glanced at the clock on the wall, made a dismayed sound and shuffled into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her. She came out moments later and ran into the bathroom. There was the sound of running water, and Hitsugaya shook his head; some things would never change.

She emerged twenty minutes later, clean, much more awake and dressed. She grabbed a bag, hesitated and Hitsugaya made an impatient noise. Taking a deep breath and pinching the bridge of her nose, she scurried into her room, took another bag and her wallet, stopping briefly to grab her keys and slammed the door behind her.

"Where are we eating?" she asked in the elevator. He slid a glance at her, and shrugged.

"Whatever."

She frowned. "I want to go to Sogo too," she said, then brightened. "Let's have noodles in Causeway Bay. You remember those stretch noodles we used to have as kids? The ones we used to sneak out at night to get when we were hungry?"

"Yeah."

The restaurant was more like a small room with too many tables, chairs and people, but the noodles were delicious and the goose excellent. Hinamori insisted on paying for her share, and after a brief argument, Hitsugaya gave in with a scowl. She giggled.

"You still look the same," she said, reaching out to muss his hair. "Especially when you make that face."

"What face?"

"This one." She imitated his scowl, and smiled. Her smile slipped off her face when his expression didn't change, and she looked at her lap. "Five years," she said. "It seems like yesterday."

"Sometimes," he said, getting up. She followed suit. "People don't change that much in five years."

"Sometimes they do," Hinamori said softly, and then took a deep breath. "Never mind, I'm being silly. I need to pick up a few things at Sogo. Do you want to wait for me, or are you going to work?"

He checked his watch. He had already told Matsumoto that he'd be late, so he could afford to stay. He told her as much, and Hinamori beamed. "Good." She grabbed his arm. "We can play at the arcade again too. I haven't been there in years!"

"I am not playing Dance Dance Revolution," he said in his flattest tone.

"You're just a sore loser," she teased. "I've never tried Para Para with--"

"I am _not_ going," he barked. Hinamori's face fell and then she shrugged.

"Oh well, we're too old for arcades anyway. Come on, it's getting late and more people are going to show up," she said.

He spent the next fourty-five minutes dodging people and cursing under his breath as Momo wove her way through the sunglasses and shoes. She would pause every so often to ask his opinion on something, and he would give her a non-committal answer, to which she would reply with a frustrated, "You're still the same Shiro!"

"What do you mean?"

"You don't care. You're such a _boy_," she said. Her gaze turned distant. "Do you think we'll always stay this way?' she asked wistfully. "As friends, I mean."

He raised a brow at this. "I run an escort club and an illegal gambling den," he reminded her in low tones. She shrugged.

"You're the one that says people don't change a lot in five years. You're still Shiro. Your hair is still white and you've still got those pretty blue eyes and," her eyes began to gleam, "you're still the same little baby inside." Reaching out, she pinched his cheeks and pulled every which way, making him yelp.

"Don't do that," he hissed, rubbing his face and glaring. She shrugged, unapologetic.

"You're too serious, Shiro. Live a little. It won't kill you."

"Not today," he replied, picking up a pair of shoes from the display table and putting them in her arms, "maybe some other time."

_end chapter eight  
_

* * *

**Notes: **Causeway Bay -- one of the main districts in Hong Kong. Full of shopping, food and people. The lai mein there is great, but not nearly as great as the small street market there. It beats the one in Mongkok by far. Sogo is one of the largest department stores in Hong Kong, and is in the centre of CB. The arcade is also not made up, but I can't quite recall which building it's in. 

For the record, I did take this AU off from public view on my lj. I was having problems with plagiarism, not just this AU, but other things as well. I don't really mean to take THIS long to update, but I tend to forget. I thought I had put this chapter up weeks ago, but apparently not. Mea culpa. I can be persuaded to work faster (haha), but I'm a dedicated lazybones and easily distracted.

This AU is complete, however, so no matter how much you beg for a particular pairing or OT3 or whatnot, if it's not in the cards, it's not in the cards. Sorry if I sound obnoxious, but I'm not trying to pander for reviews (haha) as much as I adore the ego-boost. Actually, thank you for the comments, if anything. I do read and appreciate them.

**Up next: **(Gen-X Cops) Renji, Ichigo and all things awkward and undercover. Shunsui and Nanao also make their appearance and Ichigo finally meets Mr. Aizen. My God, I do love Ichigo and Renji.


	9. GenX Cops III

**Summary: **Rookie cop Ichigo learns that some things are most definitely not what they seem, especially when he gets partnered up with Rukia. Meanwhile, Urahara offers Renji a "get out of jail" card when he asks him to infiltrate the mob known as the Gotei 13. At the same time, the Ishida heir goes missing, and it's up to Special Operatives Chad, Orihime and Tatsuki to find him and bring him back.

Written for NaNoWriMo redux, December 2005/January 2006, which took place on lj. In total, it's about 86, 000 words, approximately. I've edited it slightly for typos, but not really much else. The writing isn't my best, but it's my first try at something that's not either humour/parody or cotton candy-esque romance. There are about thirty chapters, give or take, and I'll be posting as I edit, which probably won't be very quick.

* * *

Ichigo flattened himself against the wall before the door could swing into his face. A tall man walked out, his curly hair hanging to his chin, his features partially obscured by the ridiculous hat he was sporting. "Apologies! I didn't expect for anyone to be waiting outside," he boomed when he noticed Ichigo.

"So I noticed," muttered Ichigo, eyeing the speaker curiously. He was in a tailored suit, but his tie was quite loud, a Hawaiian print with small tropical fishes and other kinds of aquatic sea-life swimming lazily in silk, the cuffs of his expensive shirt unbuttoned and folded over the sleeves of his Armani jacket.

"You look like a tall, strapping," Ichigo winced, "lad. I'm Shunsui Kyouraku." The other man held out a hand, which Ichigo took gingerly. "You are..."

"He's one of my most promising rookies," someone said from being Kyouraku. Ichigo refrained from groaning as he saw his section chief, grinning and looking ridiculously pleased for no goddamned reason.

"Ahh, Urahara, just the man I wanted to see." Kyouraku released Ichigo's hand, and Ichigo refrained from flexing it. This Kyouraku fellow had a grip. "I believe you wanted to ask me something?"

"In my office." Urahara paused as he examined Ichigo and the papers in his hands. "I'll take those," he said, holding out a hand, and Ichigo sighed as he handed his reports over. "Go on break. You look beat."

"I haven't even started yet," growled Ichigo, but Urahara waved his hand.

"It's fine, your partner's not even here yet. Go on, shoo."

Feeling minorly put out at being treated like some kind of domesticated animal, Ichigo obeyed nonetheless. He paused at a snack machine, grabbing himself a pop and bag of chips before stumping his way to the canteen. He had the afternoon shift, which started a half hour ago, and Rukia still hadn't shown up. Popping the tab of his Sprite, he took a long drink. When he set his drink down, he raised an eyebrow when he saw someone enter the canteen that he never expected to see. He got up and tapped the newcomer on the shoulder.

"The hell you doing here?" he demanded.

Renji jumped and swore. "Can't I come grab a bite to eat?"

"You don't even work here," Ichigo grumped, but walked back to his seat. Renji grabbed a large carton of milk and a straw before sliding into the seat across.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

Ichigo opened his bag of chips and took one, offering one to Renji, who grabbed a small handful. "Looking for Rukia?"

"Yeah, kinda."

"Kinda? What the hell does that mean?"

"Was in the neighbourhood. Thought I'd drop in and say hi."

"You can't just _drop in_ on a cop," hissed Ichigo.

Renji shrugged and opened his carton before taking a swig from it. "Why not? Not like you guys were on patrol."

"How would _you_ know?" demanded Ichigo. When Renji did not reply, Ichigo rolled his eyes and pushed a wayward strand of hair from his forehead. "You guys fucking or something?"

Renji spat his milk out, drenching Ichigo with saliva and dairy, as well as the table. "Fuck no!"

"Holy motherfucker, you're paying for my drycleaning," howled Ichigo at the same time.

"You shouldn't have asked such a stupid question then!" shot back Renji.

Grabbing a few stray napkins, Ichigo wiped his face. "I need to change, and I've only one uniform in my locker," he muttered.

"Hey, you on break?"

Ichigo glanced at his watch and shrugged. "Until Rukia gets her ass here."

"Can you fight?"

Ichigo thought back to his first spar with Rukia. "Yeah," he admitted, grabbing his trash and tossing it. "Kinda."

Ichigo's first fight with Renji was nothing like the one with Rukia; neither of them held anything back, and Ichigo spent less time studying his opponent than attacking. He had a feeling that with Renji, it was better to not let him think, to act on instinct and reflex without holding back.

Renji was good. Even better than Rukia in some respects. Where Rukia was agile, cunning and sly, Renji was straightforward, his form not always perfect, but his punches and kicks landed more often and made Ichigo's body reel with just enough sensory impact to disjoint, but not bruise. Rukia's control was imperfect but quicksilver; Renji's was consistent.

After ten minutes were up, Ichigo called time and Renji nodded. "Not bad, Carrot Top," said Renji.

"Not bad yourself," Ichigo replied, walking around the empty room to loosen muscles that were already beginning to stiffen.

"You fight too clean though," Renji said. "If we were on the streets--"

"--I would've been dead in less than two minutes."

"That's not what I was going to say," Renji said. Ichigo looked up from his stretching and saw Renji grin. "You would've been gone in a minute."

"Fuck you," Ichigo said.

"When you're out there," Renji made a gesture with a hand that Ichigo interpreted as 'the streets,' "use every advantage you can get. Make them if you can't get any." He shrugged. "Just advice; wouldn't wanna see you die too young. I don't have the money for flowers or cards."

"You wouldn't be invited to the funeral anyway," muttered Ichigo.

Renji snorted. "If your old man was around, I wouldn't want to go. Ready for another match?"

Ichigo clambered to his feet and shifted his weight to the balls of his feet, when the door to the gym was flung open.

"Ahh, Ichigo! Just the person I wanted to see! Come with me." Urahara's eyes flickered over to Renji. "You too, Abarai," he added, almost as an afterthought.

Ichigo grabbed his sweater and shrugged it on, exchanging a look with Renji, whose jaw suddenly seemed tighter. "You know him?"

"Unfortunately," replied Renji. When he did not elaborate, Ichigo opened his mouth, but Urahara held up a hand.

"Not now, Kurosaki. He can explain later. Officer Kuchiki hasn't shown up yet, has she?"

"Err," Ichigo coughed. "I don't think so," he offered. Then added, "But I haven't checked."

Urahara waved a dismissive hand. "That's fine. Your father and I were no saints either when we were rookies." Chuckling, he led them into his office and they sat down, watching him make coffee. "I've a mission for the both of you." He tossed Ichigo a machine, which he barely caught. It was a tracker, and on it, a small dot was moving away, the radius getting larger and larger. "I need you to tail Shunsui Kyouraku."

"That weird guy from earlier today?" Ichigo asked.

"Only for a few hours. Here's his profile." Tossing a thick folder before them, Ichigo opened it and flipped through it quickly. "He owns _six television stations_?"

"As well as three newspapers, one of them being a heavily political, and a radio station," Urahara filled in. He looked at Renji, who was struggling to maintain a neutral face. "He's one of the leading moguls of Hong Kong media, and we suspect that he's been hiding a few things from the public."

"Such as?"

"Classified information." Urahara handed them their coffee before making another one for himself. "What we want to find out is what his connection to the Gotei 13 is."

Ichigo, who had been taking a drink, immediately choked. Renji's face was going through an amusing array of expressions, the primary one being dismay. "The fuck?" Ichigo sputtered. "Why me?"

"You're an exceptional officer, never mind that you're a rookie," Urahara said. "And you're Isshin Kurosaki's son." A faint smile found its way to the Section Chief's face. "There are few things thicker than blood."

"Yeah, like a fucking bullet to the brain," snarled Ichigo, throwing the file back onto the desk. "How long do I have to do this?"

"Just until dinner. It's a temporary assignment, rest assured. Anything to say, Abarai?"

"No."

"Good. You're both on the job as of now. Dismissed."

They stood up and left. "No point in changing now," said Ichigo.

Renji shrugged his jacket on, checking his pockets to make sure that his guns were still there. "Go ahead, I'm going to use the toilet first," he said, and backtracked. Curious, Ichigo agreed, but knew that his new partner was lying. Waiting for thirty seconds, he trailed Renji back to Urahara's office, following a hunch. Placing his ear against the closed door, he heard:

"--asn't part of the fucking deal."

"We never specified what was _in_ the deal. As far as I'm concerned, anything dealing with the Gotei 13 and this precint will also involve you."

"Fuck this shit, I'm outta here."

"So's Officer Kuchiki then."

Ichigo's blood turned to ice. He continued listening.

"You can't hold that against me forever."

"You can always go back to jail."

"You said yourself that if I didn't agree to the deal that she'd be gone. You backing out?"

"Things can change."

"So can the shape of your face."

"Careful, Abarai. What are the odds that you can walk out of this building without at least thirty cops leaping on your sorry ass?"

There was a pause and then a growling sound. Realizing that Renji was about to leave, Ichigo skittered away from the door and down the hall, around the corner and waited at the designated area. When Renji returned, his colour was high, but he seemed remarkably composed.

"Let's go," Ichigo said, twirling his keys.

"Yeah." Paused. "Park the car at Star Ferry."

"Why?" Ichigo peered at Renji, who scowled.

"Just trust me on this."

It was a short drive; they weren't too far from Central, and Star Ferry, while expensive, wasn't so difficult to find a spot as Ichigo had feared it would have been. Once out, Ichigo checked the tracker, and noticed that they were substantially closer to Kyouraku (the target) than before.

"Now what? We walk?"

Renji glanced at the tracker, and seemed to think. Finally, "No, catch a cab. Less conspicuous."

"How the fuck do you know this shit?" Ichigo demanded, jogging with Renji towards the taxi stand.

"What do you think?" hissed Renji. He seemed to be in an unbelievably foul mood. Once they were close to Lan Kwai Fong, a small street full of bars and karaoke lounges (Ichigo had spent many nights ticketing inebrieted teens for underaged drinking), Renji stopped the cab, motioned for Ichigo to pay the guy (which he did, grudgingly) and they clambered out of the car. Once the taxi had departed, Ichigo drew the tracker out of his jacket a little, no longer surprised to see that they were even closer to their target.

"Follow my lead," Renji said to him in a low voice. "Don't talk if you don't have to. Try not to get shot to shit if I'm not around."

"I'm not a--"

"--rookie?" Renji took a deep breath. "I'll explain things after this is over, okay?"

"Fuck that, I want to know what I'm getting into."

Renji looked at him, and Ichigo was struck by how much meaner Renji suddenly looked, the way his tattoos stood out against his pale skin and red hair. "No you don't," he said. "But if it really matters, I'm known around here."

Ichigo opened his mouth to protest, and snapped it shut when the implications of the statement seeped into his brain. Renji Abarai, the guy on parole, the one his dad had busted for exporting drugs, rumoured to have been in a gang. "Well, lead the way Red fucking Riding Hood," he said.

Renji smacked the back of his head and strode off, walking to the end of the hill and then ducking into a corner, down the street and then into another street. They stopped in front of an escort club, and Ichigo blinked and checked the tracker. Renji gave him no time to think before slipping inside and after a moment's hesitation, Ichigo followed.

A pretty girl came up to them, but sat back down when she noticed Renji. The escort club was empty as it was still early in the day and Ichigo guessed that it had just opened. Kyouraku was sitting on a sofa, surrounded by a bevy of beauties. He did not notice their entrance. Renji sat down not too far from the bar, raised a hand and ordered a whiskey on the rocks. After a moment's hesitation, Ichigo asked for a Coke, drawing up the hood of his sweatshirt.

"You a wuss?" Renji asked once their server had left. Ichigo shrugged.

"Don't like alcohol. 'sides, shouldn't drink on the job."

"Whatever."

"How the hell did you know he was--"

"Later," interrupted Renji. The backdoor to the bar opened, and Ichigo looked up to see a young woman. She had glasses, her hair was bound back with a few wisps escaping from it. Her skirt fell exactly to her knees and the shirt was buttoned almost all the way up. Her suit jacket matched her skirt perfectly, its sleeves ending just where her wrists were. She was hugging a folder and clipboard to her chest. Sweeping her eyes across the floor, she saw Kyouraku (the _target_, Ichigo reminded himself) and her lips thinned before she walked towards him, dipping under the small exit from behind the bar without bothering to lift the heavy wood. She stopped before him.

"Sir," she said, her tone heavy with disapproval. Ichigo sipped his pop.

"My dear Nanao" said Kyouraku.

"I've come to give you this."

"Sit down! Have a drink with me," he said, waving at the sofa. A girl immediately moved over but Nanao declined with alacrity, Ichigo was amused to note.

"No thank you. I must go back to work."

"Do you work all hours of the night as well as day?" Kyouraku asked in a mournful tone.

"I work as long as Mr. Ukitake needs me to," she replied in a clipped voice.

"Lucky Jyuushirou," he said, in the same tone.

"Sir," it sounded more like a warning than anything else to Ichigo. He looked at Renji, who seemed more than slightly amused by all of this.

"Excuse me ladies, but business calls," he said, kissing the cheeks of each of the girls around him and handing them bills. Ichigo thought it could have possibly been his imagination, but he swore that he saw Nanao's lips tighten. When the girls had disappeared, Kyouraku stood. They walked back towards the bar and he lifted the heavy wooden separator for them, lowering it back down gently and into the back. Ichigo was about to stand up, but Renji pushed him back down.

"That should be enough for that rat-fink bastard," Renji said flatly. "Let's go."

"Why are you in such a hurry, Abarai?" a voiced asked from behind them. Renji's spine stiffened, but Ichigo turned his head around curiously, his hood falling down to his shoulders.

"Good evening, Mr. Aizen," replied Renji.

"And to you, Mr. Abarai. Who is your companion here?"

"Just a friend," Renji said, waving a hand. "Ichigo, this is Mr. Aizen. Mr. Aizen, this is Ichigo."

"You may call me Sousuke," Mr. Aizen said, offering his hand. Ichigo took it reluctantly. "I hope this isn't brash, but could I ask for your surname?"

Ichigo hesitated. "Yasutora," he lied. Chad surely wouldn't mind. "But call me Ichigo instead."

"Hmm, interesting. What do you do for a living, Ichigo?"

Ichigo decided that he didn't like this man. He seemed too nice and genial. "I'm a sales clerk," he replied, shoving his hands in his pockets and enjoying the feeling of his semi-automatic in his hand.

"I see." Aizen's eyes dropped to his pockets, and pushed his glasses up on his nose. "I hope I will see you again."

"Yeah," Ichigo replied, half-heartedly. "See you around."

Once Aizen had left them, Renji grabbed his drink, downed it, and said, "Let's blow this joint."

For once, Ichigo didn't argue. He left a couple of bills on the table, drained his pop. Once they were back in Ichigo's car, the doors closed and windows closed, Renji let out a long sigh and his shoulders seemed to relax slightly. "I'm hungry," he announced, reaching deep in his pocket and taking out a cigarette. Ichigo plucked it from his hands.

"Yeah, well you owe me an explanation," Ichigo said. "And I don't want my car to smell.

Renji scowled, but put the cigarette back in its package. "Haven't you figured it out yet? I'm a double agent. For that rat-fink of a bastard," he added.

Several things in Ichigo's mind clicked. Then he frowned. "A double agent in the Gotei 13? How the fuck did you manage that?"

"You don't want to know," Renji said wearily.

Ichigo studied him for a while, noting the dark shadows under his eyes. With a shrug, he decided it wasn't really any of his business and turned the key in the ignition. Pulling out of the spot, he remembered the conversation he had overheard through Urahara's door. "How you know Rukia then?"

"Told you before. Fostered together."

"You guys kept in touch?"

"Yeah, something like that." Renji leaned his head back, reached out with a long arm and turned on the radio. "You think Rukia's at work yet?"

"Probably. Why?"

Renji grabbed Ichigo's cell phone from the holder and began flipping through the phone book. "Think we can get her to pay for our dinner tonight?"

Ichigo snorted. "What do you think?"

_end chapter nine  
_

* * *

**Notes**: I was rereading this chapter and saying to myself, "Wow. This really makes no sense!" Err, more filler, I guess you could say. It was mostly me going, "Hee, IRR!" and "ICHY/RENJY!" and all sorts of idiocy. I think my threesome tendencies are becoming obvious.

Also, if I had to rewrite it, I would probably have had Renji and Ichigo take a taxi to the IFC and just walk to Lan Kwai Fong. Lan Kwai Fong/Central area is also where the famous kilometre-long escalator is, and where the majority of the Wong Kar Wai movie "Chungking Express" takes place. "Lan Kwai Fong" is an area full of clubs. In reality, if the Hyourinmaru really did exist, it'd more likely be a high-rollin' illegal gambling den behind a very famous Chinese restaurant. Hee.

It weirds me out to realize that people read my lj for this AU. I feel like no one on FFN is reading it much. Heh. But I do appreciate the reviews.

Happy Hols, everyone! I'll, uh, try to have the next chapter out faster.

**Up next: **(Infernal Affairs) Nanao, Shunsui and a mission objective (or something)! Also, Byakuya and we meet the head of the Gotei 13 at last.


	10. Infernal Affairs IV

**Summary: **Rookie cop Ichigo learns that some things are most definitely not what they seem, especially when he gets partnered up with Rukia. Meanwhile, Urahara offers Renji a "get out of jail" card when he asks him to infiltrate the mob known as the Gotei 13. At the same time, the Ishida heir goes missing, and it's up to Special Operatives Chad, Orihime and Tatsuki to find him and bring him back.

Written for NaNoWriMo redux, December 2005/January 2006, which took place on lj. In total, it's about 86, 000 words, approximately. I've edited it slightly for typos, but not really much else. The writing isn't my best, but it's my first try at something that's not either humour/parody or cotton candy-esque romance. There are about thirty chapters, give or take, and I'll be posting as I edit, which probably won't be very quick.

* * *

The Hyourinmaru was eerily silent and empty when they entered it, Matsumoto running ahead of them to key the code to allow Shunsui and Nanao in.

"Thank you, my dear," Shunsui said, clapping a hand on the blonde's shoulder.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," Matsumoto called, giving a cheeky grin and wink before leaving them alone.

When the door had shut behind her, Nanao handed her superior the folder. He took it and put it on the closest mahjong table before pulling out a chair for her, which she stiffly sat in. he took the seat to her left, pulled the folder closer to him and began to scan its contents.

"He's not going to run for Chief Executive," Nanao told him after a moment. Shunsui looked up from the papers and frowned.

"Do I need to publish that?"

"No."

"How boring." He shut the folder and regarded his favourite spy, a smile creeping up his face. "How's the political life treating you, Nanao?"

"Well enough, Sir," she said, handing him her clipboard. "Please sign here."

He raised an eyebrow. "So careful," he murmured, but did as she asked, removing the cap of his heavy, square, gold ring and stamping the paper after the signature.

"I am a spy, Sir," she said, standing. "I could very well be a double agent."

"Would you really betray me, Nanao?" he asked, sounding hurt, but the light amusement in his tone clued her in.

"If the price was right."

He clutched at his chest, rumpling his shirt. "My heart bleeds!"

Ignoring him, she stood. "If that's all, Sir."

"I've a name, my dear."

"I know, Sir."

"Are you this cavalier with Jyuushirou?"

She raised an eyebrow at him. "I have been nothing but professional with Mr. Ukitake, Sir."

Shunsui paused and reached into his jacket to pull out a cigar and silver lighter. He smoked for a while and then finally said, "You need to be careful about saying his name. There could be spies around."

"Like Abarai, Sir?"

He looked at her with respect. "Does anything ever escape your notice?" he asked admiringly.

"I try not to miss too much."

"What do you think he wanted?" Shunsui frowned. "I'm sure Kuchiki knows, but isn't saying anything. And that rookie cop was with him. One thing for sure, Abarai wanted to be seen. Was probably counting on it."

Nanao thought for a moment. "Was it a warning?"

"Perhaps. But now he's blown his cover to us and we know he's definitely playing both sides." He frowned. "I wish that priss Byakuya would just /say/ something. Renji's his subordinate."

"I'll ask around," she said.

"Sit down."

"I'd rather not."

Regarding her through his lashes, he smiled. "Very well then." Paused to take another drag, letting the smoke linger in his mouth before blowing it out. "Do you regret any of this?"

She looked uncertain and pushed her glasses up. "Regret what?"

"Becoming a spy. A go-between for Juushirou and I. Oh for Heaven's sake Nanao, sit down, I beg of you!" He fluttered his eyes at her, and reluctantly, she complied. "Much better."

"Have I ever expressed displeasure with my job, Sir?"

"No, but you never express much of anything." Reaching out with his free hand, he caught her chin and tilted it up in Hyourinmaru's dim lights, examining the angles and planes of her face. Her lips tightened, and with a subtle, but very definite movement, she jerked her face from his hands.

"It is true that I could have had a career in politics. It is also true that with my qualifications, I would be able to enter any field. However," and she reached out to grab the discarded folder, "I also like this job."

"Good. I'm glad." He gave her a wide smile, which she ignored. He leaned closer so that she could smell the tobacco on his breath and her spine straightened. "Tung Chee-Hwa was a fool for letting you go."

"His suspicions about me were legitimate, Sir," she said woodenly.

"Yes, I suppose so." Paused. "It all worked out for the best, I suppose. Jyuushirou entered politics, you ended up as the Police Commisioner's head secretary," he moved his chair closer so that he could slid his arm comfortably around the back of her chair, "and you were placed under my jurisdiction."

"Shared with Mr. Ukitake," she reminded him, pushing her glasses up and gathering papers and the folder. "If you'll excuse me, Sir, I must return to the office."

He pouted but drew back a little. "If I didn't know better, I would say that you liked him more than me," he whined.

Her shoulders relaxed minutely and she stood. "It is my job."

He sighed mournfully. "You don't even want to have a drink with me?" he asked.

"I'm sure Ms. Matsumoto would be happy to take my place," she said. Her heels made no sound on the soft, plush carpet. "I'll discover as much as I can about Abarai's motives and the person with him. Good day, Sir."

She paused when the door swung up and her hand went automatically for slim, almost-invisible knife she had strapped at her waist. Shunsui had not moved, but his shoulders were straighter than before. His posture did not change when he saw who the newcomer was. "Ahh, Sousuke."

"Hello Shunsui." Aizen looked at Nanao, who had already brought her other arm up to hug her folders and clipboard to her chest. "Hello Miss Ise."

"Good evening, Mr. Aizen," she said in her usual clipped tone.

"I did not expect to ever meet you, especially in such...eclectic surroundings."

"The Police Commissioner's public relations head was ill today, so I came to give Mr. Kyouraku a message." She slid a glance at her boss, gave both Mafia Lords a frosty smile and nodded her head before leaving, slipping out the door.

"Bye Nanao!" Shunsui called to her retreating back. "Maybe we could do lunch one da--"

The door closed with an audible click. Shunsui gave an exaggerated sigh and slouched in his chair, keeping an eye on Aizen, who took the seat that Nanao had just vacated. "How sad," said Shunsui. "I was really hoping she would accept my offer."

"Is that why you brought the Police Commissioner's head secretary to the Hyourinmaru? To ask her out?"

Shunsui looked affronted. "I am not that simple!" he declared. "I was also going to buy her a drink."

"The bar is outside."

Shunsui gave a mock scowl. "And have Abarai report on the unsuccessful nature of my love life to Kuchiki? How demeaning would that be?"

"I doubt Kuchiki would care."

Snorting, Shunsui relit his cigar, reaching into his jacket to offer his peer one. Aizen declined, and Shunsui smoked for a moment to make sure his cigar wouldn't go out again. "You're right, he wouldn't. But he would tell the old man, who would ream my ass if he found out I was dating a politician."

"Miss Ise is not a politician."

"She's the police commissioner's head secretary. That makes her even worse," Shunsui pointed out. "They know everything! All the secrets, the inworkings of the office, the real news behind the police commissioner's extra-marital affairs." He sighed and placed the back of his hand on his brow. "A perfect match for a media mogul!"

"She is indeed, a very good match for you." Aizen paused for a moment. "For Jyuushirou as well, I suppose."

Shunsui raised a brow. "Why do you say that?"

"They're both very calm, very controlled, and he seems to have the kind of gentle personality that would wear down her hard one."

"This is assuming that they know one another," Shunsui reminded, his hands suddenly feeling very cold. "I suppose they would have met at functions and parties.

"Yes, well..." Aizen paused. "What do you think of Abarai and his young friend, Ichigo?"

Trying not to feel disconcerted at the sudden shift in subject, Shunsui replied, "I think he is either a very cunning or a very foolish young man."

"I agree. I spoke with him after you had left the lounge. It was almost as if he wanted to reassure us of his loyalties, but he was protecting his friend at the same time." Aizen stood up and tucked the heavy wooden chair back under the table. "It'll be interesting to see how he'll play this game."

"You make this sound like mahjong," Shunsui said, gnawing on his cigar. "I'm thirsty. Let's go out and have a drink."

Aizen smiled faintly. "Sure. I'll buy the first round."

* * *

"Come in."

Byakuya let himself in, closing the door behind him silently. "Sir," he said, bending his waist at a small incline.

"Sit down, Byakuya."

Byakuya complied, crossing his legs and placing his hands in his lap. He looked at his superior across the desk. "How have you been?"

Yamamato waved a wrinkled hand. "The same. You look well."

"Thank you." Byakuya paused. "You wanted to talk to me."

"You've taken young Abarai back under your wing."

Byakuya nodded. "Yes."

"As a double agent." Yamamoto paused and lifted a file from his desk. "I thought your sister was adequate."

"I thought it best to provide her incentive."

Yamamoto made a noise in his throat and flipped through the file, pausing at a photo. Byakuya forced his hands to relax. "You ought to trust her more. She's grown a lot. Looks a lot like her sister."

"Sir." Byakuya's voice was cold. "What is the point of this?"

Yamamoto clucked his tongue. "You're too uptight, Byakuya." He stroked his long beard for a moment, his eyes dark and shuttered and stood up. Clasping his hands behind his back, he moved to the windows. Looking out at the metropolis, he said, "I am very old."

Byakuya did not reply.

"What do you think of Sousuke?"

There was a knock on the door. It opened to reveal a fairly young secretary with a pair of small cups, and steaming pot. She poured them cups of tea and left, taking the tray with her. When the door had closed, Byakuya reached for a cup and sipped.

"You've very good tea," Byakuya murmured. "Very strong. Where did you get this?"

"From an herbalist in China." Yamamoto turned from the window to take a cup himself. Veins ran from his hands up his sinewy arms. He moved with the liquid grace of someone thirty years younger, no movement waste as he tasted the tea. "What do you think?"

Byakuya took another sip and rolled the hot liquid on his tongue. "Very good. Can't quite pinpoint the bitter aftertaste, but its initial impression is very smooth. Golden almost. I'm not quite sure what I think of it."

"I see." Yamamoto's eyes cut into his Mafia Lord. "How have things been?"

"Very good. We have just received a shipment. It looks to be very profitable."

"I look forward to hearing your report at the next meeting." The old man's eyes hardened. "I do expect a full account of everything."

"Yes. I will make sure of it."

"Bring Abarai and your sister along." Yamamoto's gave a sharp bark of laughter at the stony expression in Byakuya's eyes. "Don't worry, I won't kill them. Not yet anyway."

"I would prefer if you didn't kill my subordinates."

Yamamoto settled back into his chair, his tea carefully cradled in his hand. Byakuya finished his cup and poured another, raising the teapot at Yamamoto, who shook his head. "She just wants to please you. You ought to be easier on her."

"I am going easy on her."

"Not everyone calls their sister-in-law a subordinate."

"Not everyone is in a gang," Byakuya replied, equably.

Yamamoto finished his tea, nodding graciously when Byakuya poured him another cup. "You know, I never told you this, but my brother was a gangster. He was fifteen years older than me.

"I found out when I was seven. He came home, his arm shot to pieces and blood dripping in the foyer. I bound him up and took him to the hospital. We said it was a robber. I was thirteen when I joined the gang. He was second in command to some bigshot and I wanted to impress him, but no matter what I did, it seemed as if he always had to bail me out. Told me I was a nuisance. I shot him. He said, 'Looks like you're not a worthless piece of shit after all' and died.

"Took me years to work my way up. I killed, slept around, blackmailed people and clawed my way up here. And now, the only thing I have to say is that if I had to do it again, I probably would. Fucking bastard. Probably said that to me on purpose." His eyes bore into Byakuya's. "Your sister's different. Don't fuck her up the way your wife was."

"If I may interrupt," Byakuya said, setting his teacup down on the oak desk, "she asked for this assignment."

Yamamoto shook his head. "This is why you could never lead the Gotei 13, Byakuya. I'll see you at next week's meeting."

"Very well." Byakuya stood, bowed briefly. Before he could open the door, he heard a voice behind him say, "She's your sister, Byakuya. Not a subordinate."

"I know." Byakuya left, closing the door behind him gently.

_end chapter ten_

* * *

**Notes: **What can I say? I'm uh, indisposed. No, seriously, life has been a bitch. Mea culpa.

**Coming up: **Young and Dangerous. Tatsuki wakes up, and Yumichika's in drag. No, really.


End file.
